The Hollow and The Halcyon
by MockingbirdSoul
Summary: Can the Espada be forced to reform and serve the Soul Society under abiding imprisonment in the human world? Or will their loyalties lie with the kind-hearted human girl next door? Rating may vary. [Under Reconstruction - Read at your own risk]
1. Chapter 1: Dysfunction

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 1: Dysfunction

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the manga or the anime.**

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Orihime sat quietly at her small desk near the window of her new apartment. Before her lay scattered sheets of homework, unopened textbooks, and a now lukewarm cup of tea, while a beautiful day floated on in the peaceful realm of nature. She breathed out slowly, blowing little strands of her coppery hair that shone like streams of fire in the path of sunlight. She had planned to spend the day studying for a test tomorrow, but past experiences taught her that the slightest, most inobtrusive disturbances sent ripples through the calmest of waters.

_"Turn the fucking stove off!"_

_"You're the one who left it on, dumbass!"_

She cringed at the harsh screams that permeated through the wall separating her apartment from the one next door. Following it was a garbled cacophony of thrashing objects and angry profanities being fired back and forth like the shots of an armed battalion.

Orihime had adored her new home from the moment she first arrived. It was a gift from the Gotei 13, assigned directly in response to Rangiku's boisterous insistence that her previous home was far too small for a growing, young woman. Moving into a whole new, and much larger, apartment complex was a disarming change, especially to the relatives that had been supporting her abroad for so long.

Despite her initial resistence, it couldn't be said that the Soul Society's offer was entirely unwelcome. A part of Orihime, perhaps an inkling of vanity buried beneath her gentle intuitiveness and compassion, guessed that the effort may have carried an unspoken apology for the events of the Winter War. She wasn't so narrow-minded as to believe that she solely carried the burden of her decision to follow Sosuke Aizen, for tensions still existed between her and the Soul Society over the controversey.

Being the optimist she was, Orihime chose to see their patronage to her as a sign of healing to their injured relations. Even the pang of guilt that surfaced when she found out the Soul Society provided for the entire financial coverage did little to abate her elation. It was perfect. Though much too large for a single girl to dwell in, it was open, quiet, and with a touch of her special decorating, very warm.

The only slight issue was being situated on the same floor as her new neighbors.

_"Outta the way!" _

Another alarmingly loud noise resonated from the other side of the wall, threatening to tear down it's large foundation from the force of its impact. All patience had its limits, and hers was beginning to reach its precipice.

Deciding to act on a feeble sense of responsibility, Orihime lifted herself up out of the dainty chair to walk out the door, and out of the saftey of her home. The serenity normally found on the high-rise balcony was outmatched by the storm of noise coming from the next door residence. She disregarded the slight trembling of her legs as she treaded a considerable distance - really, this building was _too_ big - along the metal rails to their door, the sound intensifying as she drew closer in proximity.

When she finally reached their doormat, the sharp crackle of shattering glass greeted her from the other side of the brick exterior.

She swallowed nervously. Well, she didn't come this far for nothing. After mustering up enough courage, she tentatively knocked on the rough wooden frame.

Mild anxiety lurched at the pit of her stomach. While she knew they wouldn't, or rather _couldn't,_ hurt her, she knew that these particularly people were not a friendly bunch. True, they must have been tremendously stressed from moving in just yesterday, but other apartment residents had already filed complaints on account of the rambunctious noise. She could already tell that the owners association would be sending eloquently worded threats against the newcomers.

Heaven forbid that the roguish group decided to retaliate. Grisly terror would most certainly be frowned upon in this family-oriented establishment.

Haunting reminders of such terror seemed to breathe down her neck in chilling whispers of the past. Orihime shuddered at the familiar edge of danger and uncertainty she sensed at every corner now that these people were back in her life. She never dreamed that the ghosts of her most terrifying experience would follow her home.

Before she could knock again, the door flew open so quickly that the hinges were nearly ripped off the door frame. The smell of smoke burned her nostrils and made her eyes water, nearly blinding her to the all too familiar, and all too humongous, giant of a man standing before her.

"The girl's here!" Espada Cero, Yammy Riyalgo, bellowed to the inside of the room. Orihime had to blink a few times to recognize him. The white Arrancar uniform had been replaced with a muscle shirt and camo pants.

"The fuck does she want?" A cantankerous voice snarled from the inside. She nearly winced at the ferocious bite that accompanied the Sexta Espada's rude words.

"How the hell should I know?" Yammy immediately roared back.

"Invite her in." A calmer voice ordered. Firm and feminine - Halibel, she decided.

"Yeah." Her skin crawled at the sound of the Quinta's lecherous laugh. "I've missed Pet-sama."

"Whatever." Yammy snapped, issuing her a look more suited for wanting to crush a bug than inviting a person into his home. Nonetheless, he retreated into a the house with a grunt, leaving the door open behind him as a welcoming.

Well, this was already turning out to be a mistake. She vaguely felt like the unassuming heroines of the horror movies she and Tatsuki enjoyed watching, waltzing into the arms of blatant danger like this. Orihime shuddered and coughed from the lingering smoke fumes, but allowed herself in nonetheless.

Her uneasiness melted away when she walked into an unexpectedly lovely, furnished living room.

In it were her neighbors: the Espada elite just in from the white sands of Hueco Mundo. Like Yammy, their white uniforms had been discarded for human attire, and their hollow masks had disappeared. All of the hollow soldiers had their attention turned to her.

"This is your home?" Was all she managed to breathe out.

"Isn't it marvelous?"

She looked to the source of that silky baritone to find a sharply dressed Szayel Apporo smiling proudly at the open space.

"The design at Las Noches was horrendously drab. This 'interior decorating' you humans practice is just enthralling. It appears my expertise extends beyond combat and science." He said as he flipped the rosy locks from behind his ear, looking completely pleased with himself.

Orihime drank in the whole wide space with a curiosity akin to that of a newborn familiarizing new surroundings. Boxes were still scattered throughout the room, but the setup was elaborate and elegant, if not a tad ornate. A warmer mocha color scheme was a much more pleasing sight than the stark contrast of white and dark teal at a certain castle. The only unsettling features were the smashed lamp near the hallway corner, and a sudden flash of hostile eyes glaring her way.

Oh dear.

"Why are you here?"

Suddenly, Grimmjow Jeagerjacques was towering over her. Tattered jeans and a sleeveless top accentuated the most intimidating aspects of his muscular physique, and just about everything pitifully frail about her own smaller frame.

"The hell do you want, woman?"

_Woman..._

Degrading as it had been, that had been her label on their territory for all the time she spent there. Terrible tension threaded through her when she heard the word formed from his grating voice. It reminded her of violent bindings. The carefully chosen words that she had come prepared with fled from his harsh gaze.

"I..." She swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I was..."

"Spit it out already." He growled, his tone darkening warningly. Before he could threaten her further, something flew at him from the kitchen. Orihime froze, but he dodged effortlessly, completely unfazed as the knife whisked past and pierced the wall.

"Please excuse his rudeness." A calm, female voice said from afar.

Orihime glanced over to find Halibel in the doorway to what appeared to be their fogged kitchen, glaring at Grimmjow with that unwavering gaze of hers. Orihime noticed her golden hair had grown out just long enough to brush against her bare shoulders.

"It's lonely in the kitchen, huh?" A mocking voice chuckled. Orihime glanced over to see smirking Nnoitra leaning against the wall, eyes leering at Halibel before sliding over to her. "Nice skirt."

Orihime tensed and tore her eyes away, feeling relieved when Halibel treaded over to stand by her.

"You're here in regard to the noise." The Tercera Espada stated rather than asked, unerringly calm in spite of Grimmjow's dirty looks and Nnoitra's shameless ogling. "I assure you, it was nothing but a petty dispute between two simpletons."

"That hulking dumbass nearly started a bonfire." Grimmjow growled from a far corner, gesturing to the hallway that Yammy had stalked off into. Judging from his surly reaction to the Tercera's words, Orihime could guess who the second 'simpleton' had been in the fray.

"Regardless." Halibel continued smoothly, turning to look at Orihime. "Is that all you've come to check on?"

Her straightforward approach caught Orihime off guard, leaving the younger human girl blinking away the daze in her eyes.

"Or is there something else you wish to say?" She inquired calmly, crossing her arms in that familiar manner that spelled control and confidentiality.

"Um, y-yes..." Orihime began slowly, formulating her point carefully so as not to agitate anyone further. "It's just that the owners probably aren't too happy about all of the complaints. A-and, you're not supposed to draw too much attention. I understand you all are adjusting to the change but-"

"Is that shit coming from the Soul Society?" Grimmjow plopped down next to a quiet Zommari on the couch. "Tell them to shove it back up their asses. They're the ones who put us in this damn internment."

The bitterness in his voice made her stomach twist into a knot. After capturing the newly revived Espada army from the winter war, the Soul Society had kept them locked up in Captain Kurotsuchi's laboratory for testing and studies on hollow anatomy. That in itself seemed like absolute torture to be put through. For reasons that the Soul Society didn't seem to comprehend, it pained Orihime to see her captors holed up in such terrible conditions.

Some people told her it was only right that the people who kidnapped were sentenced to a similar, if not worse fate. Justice deemed that they deserved it.

Orihime simply couldn't think that way.

"It's not an internment." She said soothingly. "The Head Captain just wanted to give you all your own place to live now that you've been, um, released-"

"You call this a goddamn release?" He snarled acerbicly, gesturing at the entirety of the room. "More like a change in scenery. We're still caged like fucking animals."

At that, Halibel glared frostily at him. "Would you prefer that wretched Captain's _actual_ lab cages?"

Despite herself, Orihime winced at the memories that popped into her mind. Instinctively, her arms wrapped themselves around her, trying to banish the unwanted chill in her bones.

"I am informed that the ones they call Vizards are also left on their own in this town." Zommari, who had been sitting silently throughout the whole exchange, finally offered some input in that deep, serene voice of his. "Though they live in exile - independent of the Soul Society."

"Except we're _not_ independent!" Grimmjow slammed his fist down on the table, his whole being blazing in fury. "Those goddamned Soul Reapers have complete tabs on us! They put freaking radars on us!" He lifted up his arm to show the black tracker wristband that each of them wore under demand from Squad Eleven. "We're trapped. They might as well put us in a fucking zoo for exhibition!"

"That's not their intention..." Orihime defended weakly.

_"Quit it with the fucking melodrama!"_ Yammy called out from a different room down the hallway, which Orihime assumed led to their separate bedrooms.

_"I'm trying to sleep!"_ She heard Lilynette's high pitched voice pipe up from down the same hall. _"Keep it down!"_

Orihime blinked in bafflement. _They're all crammed into one apartment?_

"And we have another pet to join us." Nnoitra's breath on her neck made her shiver as he chuckled and whispered in her ear.

In an unexpected shift of that immaculate indifference, Halibel wordlessly grabbed him by the collar of his dark button-down shirt. Instead of despairing an inevitable doom, the Quinta spread his lips into a challenging grin at his superior.

"Do somethin', sweetheart." He jeered maliciously. "Come on, I'll get on my knees and beg if ya want."

"Repulsive." Halibel turned away with disgust sketched on her perfectly sculpted features. Nnoitra chuckled in response. Orihime saw that his hair had changed too, and was now short to his jawline.

Uncomfortable as she felt, she couldn't help but think to herself, _It rather suits him. _

On a side note, regular clothes on his slim, skyscraper-sized form made him look good, minus the creep-factor of his personality. In fact, it was a pleasant surprise to see that they all looked nice in regular clothing, even gargantuan Yammy. She couldn't imagine the tailoring for those kinds of measurements.

"To think, I left off leashes on that shopping list." Szayel lamented. "Hopefully Ulquiorra has the sense to buy a few."

Her breath hitched at the name before she thoughtlessly blurted, "I-Is Ulquiorra here?"

There was that tension coiling her insides again as Szayel arched an inquisitive brow, "Not at the moment."

Halibel turned her attention to Orihime after promptly striking Nnoitra in the gut for a snide remark. "Ulquiorra and Nel are out gathering supplies from stores downtown."

"Oh." Was all Orihime could say. Against her better sense, her eyes fell downcast in slight disappointment. Having not seen the stoic Espada amongst his comrades for weeks had plagued her with an inexplicable anxiety. To know that he was so close, yet out of reach was disconcerting to her in more ways than one.

"It's blissful without that tight-ass around." Grimmjow said as he leaned back on the couch. "And that annoying kiddie bitch with him."

"That 'tight-ass' is the one who got us this place." Yammy emerged from the small hallway with noticeable difficulty. "Ulquiorra and Baraggan are the only reasons we're out of that fuckin' creep's lab." He muttered defensively.

Grimmjow's scowl visibly darkened at that note, and he didn't deign to reply.

"Well, I agree with the oaf for once." Szayel interjected tartly. "That man is the single most disturbing individual I have ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Pot called the kettle black." The 'oaf' muttered under his breath, and Orihime was surprised that he was familiar with the expression.

Her eyes turned questioningly to Halibel, "Umm, how is Nel, by the way?"

The former Tercera's condition was a boggling case to both her allies and adversaries. While her physical form had indeed been restored to it's full-sized and full-powered glory, the same could not have been said for her mental state.

Halibel's stare grew colder at the question, but she replied with a curt, "Fine."

"Neliel is still recovering from the effects of her injury." Zommari elaborated further. "According to that Soul Reaper Captain, her condition isn't permanent. Her childlike behavior will gradually wear off as she assimilates to her original mental age. Though it will take a considerable amount of time."

"Understandably. That 'accident' of hers was severe." Halibel glowered at Nnoitra, who didn't have a retort to fire back. Instead a very irritated look twisted on his face at the mere mention of the green-haired beauty. He then turned to Orihime with another wide, unpleasant smile that made every cell of hers cringe.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of that. I'm more concerned with our little guest here." He drawled, drawing nearer to her in a slow predatory manner. "So what're you really here for, Pet-sama? Waitin' for your owner return?"

Orihime's head snapped up at his leery statement, and she flinched away from how close he was standing. Before she knew it, she recalled those glaringly narrow eyes boring down on her, long arms immobilizing her, a rough hand shutting her mouth as she was forced watch her friend being crushed to death.

His hand slamming against the wall she had been forcibly backed into stole her from her reverie.

"Hah, wide-eyed like a fuckin' rabbit." Nnoitra grinned malevolently. "I bet you just wanted to come see that tight-ass jailor of yours again, right?"

The look on her face must have spoken for her, because he laughed harshly.

"Well, damn. I'm startin' to get why Ul settled for _this_ place. I can only imagine how much fun the lucky bastard had back at Las-"

His obscene allusions were interrupted by something large, and quite heavy-looking. Orihime yelped as a white door thwacked against the side of his head and smashed him against the wall.

"Watch the paint!" Szayel wailed frantically from the kitchen. Halibel brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose, while Grimmjow and Yammy snickered at their fallen roommate.

To Szayel's apparent relief the wall was fine, seeing as all the damage had gone to Nnoitra. Orihime gaped at the scene, utterly stunned to see at his groaning form from underneath the forcefully detached door. All heads turned over to the now open doorway, where the straight-faced Cuatra Espada himself was standing with grocery bags in his arms, while his foot was outstretched as if he had just kicked-

Oh.

Undeterred, he wordlessly stepped in to deposit the numerous paper bags in his arms at the door to the kitchen. Glossy black strands of hair curtained the side of his face as he dropped the bags. When he stood again, Orihime noted the changes in his appearance that had slipped past her awareness. Like the others, he was dressed in normal attire - simple jeans and a black henley. With the bone fragments gone, she could see his hair was shorter and messier than before. It was different, but when those unmistakable, questioning eyes came to light, she knew it was the same Arrancar from her past.

She hoped he, or any one else, didn't notice the shudder that passed through her.

"Owww, shit." Nnoitra stood back up from the heavy impact with astonishing ease, rubbing his head where the sharp corner struck him. "The fuck, man?"

"You had it coming, jackass." Grimmjow sneered.

"Pfft. Can ya blame a guy for wonderin'?"

At this, the Cuatra fixed him with a look that was stern and indifferent all at once.

"Don't involve me in any of your sickening fantasies." He said, dropping the last bag and rolling his wrist as he muttered something about the 'flimsy gigai.'

"Tell me about it." Grimmjow said frustratedly, stretching his arm out and straining the tightly corded tendons beneath tan skin. "These damn meat sacks are killin' me."

"Did you buy everything?" Zommari asked offhandedly from the couch. Ulquiorra briefly nodded in response before Szayel surprisingly chuckled in amusement.

"Although it appears we need a new door."

"Hime, you're here!"

Orihime blinked in surprise, but was swept into the air by strong limber arms before she could even turn her head.

"Oh, fuckin' hell." Nnoitra cursed under his breath, still rubbing his head as he ambled over to the sofas.

Nel twirled in delight with Orihime swept up in her arms. Despite feeling breathless, and slightly stupefied, Orihime managed to smile at the girl's giddiness. At least there was one friendly face she remembered out of the bunch.

"I missed you too, Nel."

"Yeah!" She beamed up at Orihime with round and distinctly childish eyes. "It's been so long. I've missed you and Ichigo so much!"

"Oh, I'm gonna puke." Nnoitra muttered bitterly.

"Don't mention that bastard in front of me." Grimmjow scowled. "It only pisses me off."

"That shrimp pisses me off too." Yammy concurred sullenly.

Szayel chuckled at the disgruntled trio. "That brat sure has a lot of hatred following his heroics."

Nel stuck her tongue out at all three of them before settling Orihime down with a smile. It was still a shock to see that the adorable little Arrancar she had met in Hueco Mundo had turned out to be a former Espada, and a formidable one at that. Although, that bright little girl's spirit still resonated in the stunning woman before her.

"I haven't seen you in so long! You should stay tonight! Let's have a sleepover with Halibel!"

"No." Was the curt answer that did not come from Orihime. Nel spun around to pout at Ulquiorra, the skirt of her dress swaying from movement.

"Aww, come on Ulqui! You said you missed Hime too!"

Stifled snickers sounded from the couches, but immediately died down under the Ulquiorra's frigid glare as he calmly responded, "I never said that."

_I can't imagine that you would, _Orihime agreed, though couldn't help but feel her face flush with heat.

"Aww, why not?" Nel now grasping Ulquiorra's hand as well as Orihime's.

"She may be busy Nel." Halibel offered as she worked to prop the detached door near its broken hinges. "Besides, we stil have our own work to do. Since Baraggan is absent, the final decision goes to Ulquiorra."

"Why does he get to play boss?" Szayel inquired, clearly displeased.

"Because our new boss's ass is covered with his lip stains." Grimmjow said venomously. Both Espadas glared at each other until a Nnoitra's dry laugh surfaced.

"Come on, Ul." He grinned from the sofas, sporting a bruise from his assault earlier. "Let her stay and it's a win for the both of us. I can share."

"Hey, don't worry about him." Nel gestured to Nnoitra as she whispered in Orihime's ear. "He won't bother you while I'm around."

"I..." She tried to formulate a response, but no words would come out. It should have been easy for her to politely refuse, but only a feeble silence hung loosely in the air. Seeking their safest option, her eyes flicked to where Ulquiorra was standing.

Sure enough, his eyes found hers again, cold and steadfast in his decision. Yet, she couldn't help but find an implacable difference in them. It was as if they were more wavering. It was only barely noticeable, but the concrete set of his features faltered fractionally.

"What are you thinking, woman?"

Orihime surveyed everyone in the room, taking the hint from each piercing set of eyes thrown in her way, before turning back to Neliel with an apologetic smile.

"I-I do have a bit of studying to do," She managed to say meekly. "So I can't spend the night, Nel. But m-maybe we can go out together later today."

All the while, her grey eyes were fixed against green ones, awaiting judgement under their still gaze. "Is that alright?"

Delighted, Nel jumped up and clapped her hands and turned to Ulquiorra with a pleading smile. He didn't say anything, nor did he gear his attention away from Orihime, but the slow fall of his shoulders from their rigid set was enough of an acquiesence for Nel. She squeaked happily and bounced up to latch her arms around his neck.

"Only after her studies are complete." He affirmed as he pried the giddy girl off of him. He raked the messy bangs back from his forehead and turned to Grimmjow and Nnoitra. "Put the groceries away."

Nnoitra scoffed and raised an offensive hand gesture. Grimmjow began to protest. "Why should-"

Cue the ominous glint in his emerald eyes.

"Fine." They simultaneously grumbled as they heaved themselves up off the couch. Zommari silently treaded to the kitchen to help, while Szayel disappeared into the hallway, complaining of a headache from all of the noise.

"We'll go get the rest." Ulquiorra stated as he dragged a reluctant Yammy out the doorless doorway, with Nel bounding happily behind them.

As everyone else exited the scene, Orihime was left alone with Halibel. The blond beauty crossed her arms and gazed around the entirety of the lavish room. Orihime had not been well acquainted with her in past years, but she could see that the cold resolution in her green eyes was waning beneath hardship.

"In time, they'll understand that this is our fate." She said more to herself than anyone.

Before she could offer an apology, Halibel ordered her silent with one finger. The sight of the damning black wristband made Orihime, and her heart, cringe.

"Apologies are meaningless. They won't change a thing. All we can do is bear with our predicament."

_Crash!_

Orihime nearly jumped out of her skin, but Halibel merely shook her head at the sound of broken glass, screeching tires, and a blaring siren from outside. "Though, it appears that the stress is getting to Ulquiorra, too."

_Unbelievable. _She thought, casting a concerned glance at the doorway.

"Please excuse me for intruding." Orihime had to say with an ashamed expression. "It must be so hard for you all to adjust. I can tell you're all-"

Suddenly Yammy was thrust back into the house with a very tense looking Ulquiorra following behind. As he stalked off into the kitchen, Grimmjow and Nnoitra were - quite literally - kicked out, and left to topple into a heap on top of Yammy. The door slammed, splintering at the impact.

"...unhinged." Orihime finished lamely.

Grimmjow stared incredulously at the closed kitchen door and at what sounded like a domestic warzone on the other side.

"What got jammed up his-?"

The sound of hurried steps from outside caught their attention, and soon Nel was at the door looking puzzled and concerned.

"That man behind the wheel in the car-thingy isn't moving." She informed, worriedly peeking over her shoulder out to the parking lots. "Is that bad?"

"I should go help out." Orihime mumbled and awkwardly excused herself, anxious to leave the premises.

The four Espada watched as the girl hurriedly scampered out of their mess of a home to the wreckage sight. A tired yawn from the hallway caught their attention.

"What the hell happened to the door?"

"Go back to sleep, Starrk." They snapped in union.

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Ulquiorra set his empty mug down on the granite counter. That had been his third cup of tea, yet it still hadn't been enough to settle his usual calm over him. It wasn't often that he felt so on edge. It had been a long, laborious day, but the worst had yet to come for the next few days of settling and unpacking.

He absently gazed out the window, where deep blackness veiled the skies and obscured the moon. All that remained was a scattered expanse of stars woven into the dark horizon. The glittering little specks were an unfamiliar sight.

Such things were nonexistent in Hueco Mundo, a realm devoid of light, shackled beneath darkness, clouds, and a stagnant crescent. Nothing shone there. Nothing brightened the perpetually dismal landscape. Nothing about the colorless scene ever seemed to capture him.

Nothing until she had arrived.


	2. Chapter 2: Alliance

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 2: Alliance

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**Author's Note: This chapter was awkward for me to write. Please bear with me if it's not very cohesive. **

**I am also aware that I consistently spelled Nnoitra's name wrong in the last chapter. I will make the note that I have not read Bleach in a LONG time. This idea just came out of the blue so I apologize for any mistakes that are inaccurate to the story. This story completely deviates from the manga, where a bunch of confusing and random stuff happened...not even gonna go there. **

**Thank you so much for the reviews for the first chapter! I honestly didn't expect them, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga.**

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"Why the hell is he here?"

Tatsuki glared over at the sleek black car. Specifically, at the stone-faced driver behind the wheel, with her best friend in the passenger seat. A frown graced her features as she settled her glare on Ichigo, who had his own trademark scowl directed at the pair in the school parking lot.

"I don't know." He said lowly. "But I'm gonna-guah!"

A small heel smashed into the back of his head, knocking his face down to the cold concrete. Tatsuki merely raised a brow, by no means unaccustomed to their petite classmate's mannerisms.

"You aren't going to do anything." Rukia said firmly as she stepped off his orange head and greeted her other female classmate. "There's no need to cause a fuss in school."

"Dammit Rukia..." Ichigo scowled as he rubbed the back of his head. "What the hell?"

"You're not allowed to partake in any violence against them." Rukia said dutifully. "They've kept their end of the deal, so we'll honor ours."

"What if I need to defend someone?" He challenged, glaring up at her.

Tatsuki inwardly sighed at his overblown chivalry. With or without superpowers, Ichigo had always been protective, if not territorial about his friends.

"Do you honestly approve of _that?" _He gestured angrily at the dissimilar pair.

The three of them trained watchful eyes on the same scene, unnerved at how close Orihime was to a former enemy.

_Her _former kidnapper.

Rukia's soft violet eyes hardened at the sight.

"No, I don't." She said coldly. "But I won't allow you to do anything reckless and jeopardize Orihime's safety. Or have you forgotten all we fought for?"

Ichigo's fist clenched at his side, but he shook his head slowly. Tatsuki could see a familiar resolve simmering beneath the anger in his amber eyes. She remembered that same light from when she, in a distraught haze, had struck him hard against the glass windows upstairs. Her hands tightened into fists at the regretful memory. All that time, she hadn't once considered the pain he must have felt.

He had lost a friend, too.

"Hi everyone!"

They all turned their heads to see their cheery friend waving as she approached them. The black car was gone, and thankfully, so was its driver. Orihime greeted them all with her friendly smile.

"Good morning! Ichigo, what are you doing on the floor? Did you fall?" She asked as she extended a hand to help him.

He graciously took it and stood to his towering height. "Thanks. No, more like a little rodent landed on my-gah!" He stumbled down the hall with an angry Rukia dogging him along the way.

"At least compare me to something cute like Chappy! Get moving!"

"I'm goin'! Jeez!"

Orihime giggled at her friends' bickering as she and Tatsuki followed behind them. "It's nice to be back in school."

Tatsuki snorted incredulously. "You call yourself a teenager."

"There's a bunch of good things about school." Orihime insisted as they walked through the entrance doors. "I get to see all of my friends, we learn a bunch of new things, there's fun sports in gym, I get to surprise you guys with my special lunches..."

Tatsuki rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist the smile that formed from her friend's innocent ramblings. It sometimes amazed her how a girl who had suffered such shortcomings in life was able to smile so easily and appreciate the littlest things. A princess she was, in name and demeanor, but that inner strength was what made her such a genuine girl. That strength was what fostered their friendship, and kept it so strong.

"Hmm? Tatsuki? Are you listening?" Orihime glanced over at her friend who smiling at the ground.

"Yeah, I am." Tatsuki replied. "I guess I agree with you. Except for the part about your lunches."

"Oh well. More red bean paste for me today!" She sang merrily.

"You're the only one who can stomach that stuff."

"Rangiku likes it..." She hesitated before adding, "So does Nel."

The waver in her voice was nearly imperceptible, but it didn't slip past easily.

Tatsuki arched a brow. "Does she?"

"Y-Yeah..." She nodded her head, her bright smile only faltering ever so slightly.

"Speaking of which," Tatsuki said carefully. "Is everything okay at home?"

Orihime pursed her lips delicately.

"It's the same as ever. Just, um, noisier than usual. But that's understandable with thirteen people are staying together in one place."

Thirteen people, the majority of whom were untrustworthy and dangerous individuals situated so closely to her best friend. It didn't matter if she or any of Orihime's other friends raised Hell over the issue; the Soul Society was adamant in it's decision. Whatever the hell it was supposed to accomplish.

"I still don't like it." Tatsuki said sullenly.

Orihime didn't answer right away, but tightened her hands around each other, the way she always did when she was uncomfortable.

"Neither do I."

When it came to strangers or everyday acquaintances, Orihime was adept at masking her discomfort. Only her closest friends could detect the dark shifts in her bubbly veneer.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, immediately alerted.

"N-Nothing's wrong, Tatsuki." Orihime shook her head, backtracking with an unconvincing laugh. "Let's hurry up and get to class."

Contrary to her claim, Orihime's hand tightened around the strap of her lunch bag. The way her knuckles turned bone white reminded Tatsuki of one of those thirteen individuals.

"Is this about this morning?" Tatsuki's voice lowered, an accusation ready on her tongue. "What did he say to you?"

Both girls stopped for a short second to look at each other. The surprise on Orihime's face was short-lived, and all the mirth melted away from her gentle features.

"You mean Ulquiorra?"

Tatsuki's fists clenched at the name, and the echo of breathless sobs that used to accompany it.

"Yeah. Why was he here?"

Orihime sighed and stared out the windows as they resumed walking to class, silent.

Tatsuki scowled impatiently. "If he's giving you trouble-"

"He's not." Orihime objected, more curtly than she had intended. "_They _are not." She corrected. "He just gave me a ride to school since I was running late this morning."

"Okay," Tatsuki said evenly, though her eyes still narrowed distrustfully. "That doesn't seem like something he'd do out of the blue, though."

Orihime didn't disagree, but her eyes fell downcast, as if in slight disappointment.

"Well, no." She reluctantly admitted. "It was actually Nel's idea for him to drive me. He only went along with it to appease her. It's no problem."

"Still." Tatsuki crinkled her brow, concerned. "What's bugging you?"

"Nothing's _bugging _me, per se..." She trailed off, blatantly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Was it something he said to you?" Tatsuki persisted, worried at how unusually guarded Orihime was being.

"He..."

Her voice drifted off as they reached the classroom door, unable to deliberate further. She glanced over at a profoundly confused Tatsuki with helpless eyes, and slid the door open.

"It's just-" She began, but froze when the door opened to the unthinkable.

Tatsuki's breath hitched at the sight of an absolutely livid Ichigo, glaring daggers at a familiar, dark-haired individual. She immediately recognized the chalky complexion and dead set gaze.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?"

For as long as Tatsuki had known him, she had never heard his voice drop to such a deadly pitch.

Ulquiorra Cifer didn't bat an eye.

"I asked you a question."

Everyone in the class flinched at the raw scorn in his voice; all except the man to whom it was directed at. Chad, Ishida, Rukia and all of the covert Soul Reapers of Squad Six, Ten, and Eleven in their classroom were standing in an attempt to alleviate the situation.

"That's enough, Ichigo." Ishida sounded even-tempered, but his eyes were filled with the same contempt. "Don't cause a scene."

"Then I'll respectfully take this outside." He replied through gritted teeth.

"Ichigo. We'll fill you guys in on this after school." Renji forced his way to front of the room to grab Ichigo's wrist none too gently.

"What do mean 'fill us in'?" Ishida asked with a suspicious glare. "You knew about this?"

"We only found out this morning." Ikkaku grumbled from behind rigid looking Rangiku and Yumichika. Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya stood at the front of the Shinigami force with his normal tense glare present at the confrontation.

"This matter is not to be discussed out in the open." He ordered chillingly. "Sit down."

"Toshiro-"

"That's enough." Rukia stepped in at the front of the class, between reaper and hollow. "Sit down, Ichigo. We'll talk about this later."

"What the hell is there to talk about? Why is he here?!"

"Listen to your friends, Kurosaki."

All went dead silent.

She had never heard him speak before. His voice was anything but human. Calm, controlled, and cutting as a blade. Multiple eyes darted to Ulquiorra, who was leaning on the edge of the uninhabited teacher's desk. His green eyes drifted over to where Orihime and Tatsuki stood rooted at the doorway. Orihime had described these very eyes so vividly to her many times before, mentioning how intense they were.

_You would have to see them to believe it._

Tatsuki averted her eyes from him, darting them over to Orihime in worry. The momentary surprise on her friend's face softened into a concerned grimace. When those grey eyes flicked in her direction, Tatsuki could see that they were flooded with apology and distress.

That look alone was enough set off her protective instinct, but Tatsuki was just as frustratingly helpless in this situation. Ichigo didn't look nearly as level-headed as he ought to be, and she doubted anyone would have any luck rationalizing against his temper. For once, she wished their damn sensei was her to break up stuff like this. Where the hell was she-?

"Oi."

The entire class of students jumped when a low, husky voice shattered the silence. From the door, just behind Orihime and Tatsuki, was a tall and sleepy-eyed man with a clipboard hanging from his hand and two cups of coffee in the crook of his arm.

"All of you get to your seats." He said in a tired, yet oddly threatening voice. Several students aside from the Soul Reaper gang shuffled back to seats hurriedly, anxious to see what would happen next.

"You're late, Starrk." Ulquiorra said tonelessly.

"Yeah, yeah." The older looking man scratched the back of his head with his free hand and yawned. "I was getting some coffee. How else am I supposed stay up?"

"Who are you?"

The words left Tatsuki's mouth before she had thought about them. The man's powder blue eyes drifted down to hers. Though seemingly uninterested, they were just as steely as Ulquiorra's, if not more so with the traces of wolfish pride glowering in them.

"Your new sensei." He answered coolly. "An introduction would be more fitting if I could reach my desk."

Tatsuki and Orihime made haste in moving out of his way, but Orihime stopped as she passed by Ichigo and Ulquiorra. The former looked even more outraged by the presence of their 'sensei'. The two newcomers merely gazed on, still and lifeless as statues.

"Ichigo." Orihime broke through the crowd of tense students to tentatively touch Ichigo's arm. "Let's deal with this later. Please."

His head snapped to the side, but the look of fury on his face dissolved when he locked eyes with her. He reluctantly returned to his seat, not before casting another seething glare in the direction of both Espadas.

Orihime started to follow him to her own seat, but stopped abruptly. Tatsuki was about to call her name out until she saw Orihime turn around.

It was only for a fraction of time, but it was so clear.

_It wasn't ever hard to get lost in his eyes. If you really looked into them, they seemed endless. _

Muffled whispers went unheard by the coppery haired princess as her gaze was pulled into something far deeper than a passing glance. Tatsuki blinked, dumbfounded, but that illusory second in time stretched on long enough for her to glimpse the faintest glimmer that flickered amongst flecks of emerald, like light passing through glass.

Then their brief respite faded to its end.

Time kicksarted, and Orihime hurriedly shuffled to her seat in between Tatsuki and Rukia. The rest of the class seemed stunned by the occurence, while the Soul Reapers remained in somber silence.

Starrk walked briskly to the teacher's desk to deposit all of his items. He took a place next to Ulquiorra at the front of the desk and surveyed the whole class of fidgety students.

"Morning. As a part of a foreign exchange program, I'll be substituting for your former sensei for the year. My name is Coyote Starrk and this," He clapped his hand on Ulquiorra's shoulder. "This is my assistant from the same graduate program for college students. His name is Ulquiorra Cifer."

_College student? _Tatsuki wondered incredulously. She looked over at Ichigo, who had the same look of disbelief etched on his face.

From the way Orihime described him, Tatsuki had initially assumed Ulquiorra was an old man. She remembered the surprise of seeing that messy array of inky hair, marble skin, and vibrant green eyes from afar for the first time.

Yet, in spite of such deceptively young features, something about him was ageless.

After an awkward pause of silence, the young man at the front of the desk closed his eyes

"If you have difficulty pronouncing my name, then you may call me Ul."

The class seemed to breathe out a collective sigh of relief. Starrk let out a long yawn and muttered something about taking a nap when he got home. He picked up one coffee cup and held the other one out for Ulquiorra.

"It's not your usual tea, but it's strong and it'll keep you awake. You might as well try it."

After staring at the cup for a second, as if it were untrustworthy, Ulquiorra took it from Stark's awaiting hand.

"It will do." He replied quietly. As an afterthought, he added in an even quieter voice, "Thank you."

"Hn."

Tatsuki, completely befuddled, gaped at the two of them from her seat. Her eyes bounced over to her friend, who watching the same scene with a look on her eye that Tatsuki couldn't place.

_What the hell is happening?_

* * *

Orihime let out a long-awaited sigh as she stepped out into the courtyard. Even as the wind sifted through her hair, and the warm sun rays kissed her skin, she still felt an icy prickle from the debriefing after class.

_"So, answer my question." Ichigo stalked up to their 'sensei' with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. "What are you two doing here?" _

_"Ul." Starrk said as he laid his head against his fist and waved a dismissive hand at the high school gang and the Soul Reapers. "You're better at explaining things. Work your magic." _

_Ulquiorra had been confined to a student's desk at the side of teacher's desk, periodically checking his stark black cell phone and excusing himself each time a notification went off. _

_If abruptly standing in the middle of class and wordlessly exiting the room counted as 'excusing' oneself. _

_Ulquiorra stood from his seat to face the awaiting crowd, looking calm as ever. _

_"We were only informed of this new arrangement last night after Barragan and Aaronierro returned from the Soul Society." He explained. "As you're aware, Head Captain Yamamoto has ordered the Espada to collaborate with Squad Ten in regard to the spike of hollow appearances in the city. Specifically, of Menos."_

_"I wasn't aware of this at all." Ichigo said stiffly, throwing a condemning glare at the group of Soul Reapers. "How long has this been going on?"_

_"Almost a week." Yumichika answered, slipping a few strands of hair away from his face. "Though, we weren't aware that there would be such a problematic post assigned to one of the groups." _

_"Not problematic," Renji said. "So much as conspicuous. We've needed the extra manpower against the huge waves of Menos invading since the Winter War." _

_"I see." Rukia nodded, holding the tip of her chin with delicate fingers. "So the statistics weren't just coincidental. There really has been a massive amount of hollows popping up in the city."_

_"Squad Ten has been investigating the reason for the rising numbers." Hitsugaya added in his usual all-business tone. _

_"Why the sudden increase?" Ichigo inquired, his initial anger replaced by that ever heroic concern. _

_"We have one theory," Hitsugaya said as he leveled his gaze with Ulquiorra's. "That the sudden disappearance of the Espada may be linked to more hollows escaping Hueco Mundo. Before, Aizen had limited travel through the Garganta to himself and the Arrancar only. The absence of the Arrancar army to guard the gateway allows hollows to flood freely into the human world. Not even Kisuke Urahara has any lead as to how to manage it."_

_Uncomfortable silence took residence in the crowded room, prompting a chain of shuffles and squeaks of shoes against the floor. Orihime snuck timid glances at the stoic Cuatra, whose hands rested on the folds of his crossed arms, rather than in his pockets as they normally would. In spite of his calmness, she couldn't ignore the tight clench of his fist against his bicep._

_"It is true that hollows were only permitted to leave Hueco Mundo with the consent of Arrancar guards." Ulquiorra continued. "The rule was enforced in order to stabilize the number of hollows that could remain in Hueco Mundo in order to evolve into Arrancar such as ourselves." _

_"Some incentive..." Ikkaku muttered from the back of the room. _

_"More to the point," Rangiku emphasized, shooting her comrade a warning glare. "The reason they're here , Ichigo, is to help manage the influx, especially while you're in school. Karakura Town is _our_ responsibility and yours, but it's a big job to handle. Our numbers and skills just aren't enough. And it's not just that the hollow numbers are increasing..." She trailed off with a pained face. _

_"They're stronger." Renji finished grimly. _

_"And we need help." Hitsugaya added with finality in his voice. "This is our solution." _

_"So we're recruiting hollows to fight hollows." Chad murmured from the back. The normal steadiness of his voice was burdened by frustration. _

_"What a fucking joke." Ichigo muttered. _

_Grimmjow said the same thing. _Orihime remembered back to this morning when she had left her apartment. He had stood watching from the balcony, glaring on while Nel waved an enthusiastic goodbye as Orihime nervously slid into the passenger seat next to the Cuatra Espada. Ulquiorra had told her everything on the ride to school, above the sound of Starrk's soft snores from the back seat. Despite how well he guarded his thoughts, she could tell he wasn't quite thrilled with the solution.

She thought back to this morning as she took shelter under the shade of a tree. When Ulquiorra had told her that he and Starrk would be working at this new post soon, he hadn't specified exactly how 'soon'. And to think she thought she could at least have a day to break the news to her friends. Leave it to him to completely catch her off guard. As if living next door to him and company wasn't going to be difficult enough, but now her school life was to be disturbed as well? The tension in class would probably take weeks to subside. She couldn't begin to imagine how distracting his presence would be. Distracting, and far too arresting to be good for her.

Orihime held a cool hand up to her warm cheeks, dreading how unsettling the next few days were going to be.

Exhaling quietly, she traced the rough lines of tree bark delicately with her finger. Her endeavors to be optimistic about the situation wouldn't fool anybody, but she couldn't let herself feel down. She had her responsibilities to fulfill as well, whether her friends liked it or not.

Though, she had to wonder what exactly the Soul Society was trying to accomplish with this turn of events. Former enemies being put on the front lines against their own species? It really did seem like a morbid joke.

Of course, Grimmjow had used a far cruder word to describe it. He made no effort to hide his disgust for the situation. Beneath all of that anger, Orihime could sense a deeper disquietude that must have been fueling his hotheaded behavior. Even if such unburdened fury frightened her, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Hey, woman."

Orihime sighed. She could practically hear his scathing voice calling out to her.

"Hey! Are you fucking deaf?"

There was that foul language that she would probably never get used to.

"You shouldn't use such derogatory language on learning grounds. It is unbecoming."

Then again, there was always Zommari to scold him.

Wait a minute.

"Inoue Orihime."

Her head snapped up to see the two Espada out in the open and on her school campus.

"You guys are here!" She gasped in shock.

"Observant, aren't we?" Grimmjow snorted.

"W-what are you d-doing here?" She managed to ask in her stupor.

Before Zommari could answer, Grimmjow cut him off.

"None of your fucking business. We don't have time, so just tell us where they are."

She flinched back at his harsh words, hurt and confused. "Th-They...?"

He groaned.

"You are _not_ that dense." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Something about the exasperation in his voice bothered Orihime. It sounded as if he was talking to an unresponsive child. The slightest crease of irritation formed on her brow as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

"I'm not." She mumbled, disliking the bitterness on her tongue.

"What was that?" He accosted her, making her feel small. Clenching her frail fists, Orihime mustered up enough courage to frown up at him.

"If you elaborated, I would assume you meant Ulquiorra and Starrk." She said curtly. "Am I right?"

Before Grimmjow could snap back his own retort, Zommari held him back by his arm. "Yes. Are they still in the classroom?"

"They're right here."

Orihime swiveled around at the sound of a groggy voice. The two men in question were approaching the outside campus from the building entrance. Starrk was scratching the back of his head and yawning rather unprofessionally. Ulquiorra was walking alongside him with his hands in his pockets. Orihime sucked in a breath when his emerald eyes flicked questioningly to her.

"What is it?" Starrk groaned, rubbing at his eyes as he and Ulquiorra joined them under the tree top.

"One of you needs to switch patrol shifts with Nnoitra." Zommari informed. "He is incapacitated at the moment."

"He's hurt?" Orihime asked worriedly. "Are the hollows really that strong?"

"Please." Grimmjow scoffed. "Those small fry are worthless. That sleazy bastard got knocked out cold by his own partner."

"Huh." Starrk rubbed the edge of his jaw. "Halibel really doesn't take shit from him."

"At any rate." Zommari continued. "One of you has to substitute with him to join Halibel downtown."

"Ul, it'll have to be you." Starrk shrugged unapologetically. "I have to stay and watch the class."

His eyes flicked over to Starrk momentarily before closing in acceptance.

"Understood. Though tell me one thing: why are _you_ here?" He turned his gaze on the two Espada across from him.

"We came to relay the message." Zommari replied. "Halibel wasn't able to do it herself because her area was heavily populated by hollows."

"Why didn't she call on her cell phone?"

"What do you think got indented into that huge ass head of Nnoitra's?" Grimmjow slid in. "And that damn science department's takin' their sweet ass time setting our own phones up."

"Without them, tracking is gonna be a pain." Starrk ran a hand through his ruffled brown locks, and sighed tiredly.

"Tracking?" Orihime blinked curiously. "Like the phones that soul reapers have?"

"Yeah," Starrk answered. "Halibel, Barragan, Ulquiorra, and I are the only ones with theirs at the moment. Sensors for tracking hollows throughout the city."

"Are there really that many?" She inquired, feeling a worried crease form on her brow.

"Yes, there are." Zommari answered. "Their numbers peak around this time, and stronger ones have been appearing, including a few Menos Grande."

_A few? _Orihime thought in horror. "Do you want me to heal Nnoitra? It's lunchtime now, so I have time."

"There's no need." He reassured. "Though he is unconscious, his injuries are minimal. Halibel can hold off the attacks on her own, but she'll need assistance if she wants to keep city damage minimal."

"Our area was empty as fuck so they sent us here." Grimmjow shrugged. "I don't know why Halibel didn't just ask one of us to take over his shift. We won't exactly be putting anything at risk."

"As easy as that sounds, we're not able to change positions once they've been finalized. Here on out, we're on a rotating schedule." Starrk explained, crossing his arms. "Our partnerships are strategic. Halibel can't take Zommari and leave you alone in the city without an advisor."

"So what, I need a fucking babysitter now?" He fumed, clearly offended by the implications.

"You have no capacity to control yourself." Ulquiorra stated bluntly, not bothering to turn his attention to his comrade. "You, Yammy, and Nnoitra are specifically labeled in the Soul Society's logs for destructive behavior, and are required to be partnered with overseers."

"Please." Grimmjow muttered darkly. "They haven't seen _real _destruction."

"And they won't." Ulquiorra returned with a still gaze. Calmness barely disguised the threatening undertones in his voice. "Our standings won't be jeopardized by your idiotic tendencies."

Orihime drew in a sharp breath when Grimmjow's blue eyes blazed in fury.

"The fuck did you just say?" He growled, taking a hostile step towards his comrade. "Idiotic? That's a damn bold thing to say when your pansy ass isn't even out on the battlefield."

"Grimmjow." Starrk cautioned, shooting the man a surprisingly serious look. "This is no time to pick a fight."

His words didn't seem to reach either of them.

"I have a post here under command from the Soul Society." Ulquiorra countered, unperturbed.

"Aren't you a just an obedient little lapdog?" Grimmjow sneered. "How can you stand being on the sidelines while all of the fighting is going on in the town?"

"He'll be going in for Nnoitra now." Zommari pointed out carefully, looking guarded. "There's no reason to be so belligerent."

"Please, he's only doing it because he has to." Grimmjow taunted as he loomed over Ulquiorra, distaste etched on his rough features. "He's probably too scared of breaking a nail."

"That's enough." Zommari grabbed his partner's arm. "We must return-"

He was interrupted by a rough shove to his shoulder.

"Then, go on ahead," Grimmjow spat at him, drawing his hand back. "If you're just gonna bend to their orders like this asshole, or the rest of our 'comrades'."

He snarled the word with such revulsion it made Orihime's heart wrench painfully.

Starrk stepped forward, impatience brewing beneath the stillness of his foggy eyes. "Watch yourself, Grimm. Don't make me repeat myself-"

"Since when do you play leader, Starrk?" Grimmjow shifted his glare to the Primera. "Are you just as subservient?!"

Just as his voice was beginning to rise higher, Orihime became acutely aware of the students and faculty members that were watching them, many of whom she recognized by the concern drawn on their faces. Alerted, she darted her eyes fretfully among the four men. At this rate, their cover would be blown.

"Grimmjow, please-" She tried to reason, but stopped dead when he had gotten right in her face.

"You." He pointed at her menacingly. "Fuck off."

If people weren't staring before, they certainly were now. A nearby teacher was looking on, alarmed at the scene, but Orihime couldn't do anything to alleviate the situation with Grimmjow looming over her. Gulping, she fisted the long sleeves of her sweater tightly, and fought with herself to stay calm.

"Please stop yelling." She whispered as evenly as she could.

Sure enough, he had ceased his tirade with a snap of his jaw. A sharp brow arched over his blue eyes as they both narrowed at her. Even though she managed to stand her ground, she would have crumbled beneath those glaring eyes had Ulquiorra not stepped in between them.

"That's enough." His grave voice dictated a direct order. "The longer you stay here, the greater the risk of you being punished for disobedience. Return to your base, and I'll arrive shortly."

Grimmjow tore his gaze away from Orihime, and leveled a very hard look at Ulquiorra. He had never taken lightly to orders, let alone from anyone whom he deemed weaker than him. Malice circulated in his oceanic eyes as his voice dropped to a chilling hiss.

"You're still the same little bitch you used to be."

A suffocating silence thickened in the atmosphere, intoxicating it in a way that made it difficult for Orihime to breathe. She didn't see Ulquiorra's expression from her angle, and it was damn well good that she couldn't. The subtle rage in his eyes could have burned someone to ashes.

A sharp ringing ripped through the silence. Starrk muttered a curse and flipped his cell phone open.

"Barragan-ah...what is it, Lilynette?"

His brow tightened, and he nodded slowly as muffled sounds came from the receiver. Orihime couldn't make out any words, but the unintelligible noises were loud and being rapidly spoken. No one made a single move, but the tense atmosphere remained. The other three Arrancar watched their Primera, waiting and focusing on the increasingly perplexed expression on his face. Orihime waited with bated breath as Lilynette's high-pitched voice was replaced by a far deeper, rustic rumble.

"Okay. Yes, I understand. I'll tell them. They'll be on their way. Head back with the rest."

_Beep. _

"Head back?" Zommari questioned, an uncharacteristic note of surprise in his voice. "What happened?"

"The huge wave was receding back, but now they've all escaped back to Hueco Mundo."

Despite himself, Ulquiorra balked. "All of them?"

"Not one left." Starrk repeated, expression perplexed as he stared at the glass screen, the previous tracking signals erased from the map.

Orihime blinked, stupefied as she felt a substantial drop in the spiritual pressure in the surrounding area. How could she have not detected such a spiked level of activity?

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Grimmjow, stunned in disbelief as he peered at the screen over Starrk's shoulder. "Again?"

_Again...?_

"Ul." Starrk glanced over at Ulquiorra, who was scrutinizing the same digital map field on his cell phone. "Barragan just-"

"He's already left me a message." He answered, eyes skimming the screen before snapping the cover shut.

"Persistent much." Starrk muttered while Ulquiorra turned to Zommari and Grimmjow.

"The Garganta has sealed. You both are being called back to downtown." Another notification beeped aloud, and his eyes fell ever so slightly as he checked it. "So am I."

"Why?" Grimmjow snapped accusatory eyes to Ulquiorra, as if the incident was somehow his fault.

"For discussion." He answered, regaining his stony composure. "And damage assessment."

"Oh lovely." Starrk pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's getting cut straight from our funds."

Orihime's jaw nearly dropped. _They _had to pay for damages? The Soul Society had not informed her of that part of the deal. Weren't they also supposed to share half of the rent payment with the aid that the Soul Society provided? Was that why they couldn't settle on a larger piece of property?

"Another usesless talk?" Grimmjow scowled, displeased with the idea.

"The reapers are looking to deduce a pattern to these outbursts." Ulquiorra explained, slipping his phone into his pocket. "From what we've seen, these appear to be premeditated attacks. Hollows are hunters, but their activity is usually sporadic. They shouldn't be behaving in such a way unless a direct catalyst is drawing them into the city."

"Tch." Grimmjow crossed his arms, irritated at how much sense that made. "Most lower level hollows aren't even intelligent enough to strategize like that."

"Indeed." Zommari concurred. "Even without our presence, there should not be such behavior among even the most capable Vasto Lorde."

Starrk furrowed his brow in contemplation before quietly adding, "Hollows tend to travel in packs."

Grimmjow, with an odd blankness in his eyes, grudgingly nodded. "And follow a leader."

Orihime took in the new atmosphere, blinking at the sudden change in demeanor in all of them. As if the earlier confrontation had dissipated from their minds, each of them was silent and looked almost forlorn. Right away, her heart ached at the sight of it.

"M-Maybe," She offered ever so gently. "There are other Arrancar that-"

"No."

She was taken aback by Zommari's brusque interruption. The tranquility in his gold eyes was disturbed by a ripple of unmasked indignation. The breadth of his broad shoulders heaved with the calming breath he took.

"Following the war," He began, already sending a tremor through her. "Squad Eleven was dispatched to Hueco Mundo to gather the remaining inhabitants of Las Noches. If not trapped in the Squad Twelve's laboratories, then they have been terminated."

_Terminated?_

Her eyes widened in horror at the word. No, that couldn't be. They must have been purified, and sent to Rukongai. That was what the Soul Reapers did for hollows. He must have been mistaken. But he didn't retract his statement. Starrk noticeably stiffened, and drew a hand up to the back of his neck. Ulquiorra didn't lift his eyes from the ground.

A heavy impact and loud crackling sound startled her out of her thoughts. Her head pivoted to the tree, where the bark was splintered beneath the force of Grimmjow's fist. A thin line of red trickled from the knuckles of his gigai. Her eyes trailed from the blood to the tensed muscles in his arm all the way to the utter loathing contorted on his face. Bristling in fury, he shoved past Ulquiorra and Zommari, back to the entrance gates where onlookers were hurriedly shuffling away. Zommari gazed off at him before sliding his eyelids closed.

"We must return." He repeated quietly before turning away to walk to the gates.

Orihime gaped as he disappeared behind the stone wall of the entrance, leaving her with the two remaining Espada. She turned around to face Starrk and Ulquiorra, the former of which was raking his messy locks away from his dropping eyes. He looked thoroughly spent, more so than ususal.

"I better get back to class." He turned back towards the entrance doors. His husky voice was slurred, but carried a slight edge. "Go catch up with 'em, Ul."

She could barely register Starrk's retreating form with how badly her mind was spinning. What in the world was going on? She hadn't felt this torn in such a long while, but Zommari's words resonated in her mind.

_Terminated_

Orihime dropped her eyes to the ground, feeling a slight ache in her head from such a turbulent confrontation. She considered going to see her friends, perhaps Rukia or Rangiku to have them explain the situation to her. Of course, she wasn't looking forward to the stern looks they would give her fo being in such close proximity to former enemies. Ichigo and Tatsuki were already promising threats against them on her behalf. Inevitably, her friends were going to be overbearingly protective for the next few weeks. Justifiably so, but could such animosity ever beget compromise?

She may have spent the rest of lunch pondering the thought had she not sensed a familiar presence.

Instead of leaving right away, he remained rooted to his spot beneath the shade, still as stone. Orihime swallowed as she realized that the two of them were alone, but with the way his gaze was planted on the dirt, she wondered if he was even aware of her presence.

"Um..."

She wasn't prepared when those achingly familiar eyes drifted up to her. They were still so bereft of emotion, bu that enduring curiosity still persisted in their green depths. If nothing else, those eyes were always filled with questions, ones that were never easy to answer. Yet, they always demanded reason for the things that reflected in them. The reason now? Pure accident and inattentiveness on her part, but, from past experiences, Orihime had a feeling that answer wouldn't please him. She considered asking him the questions that were on her mind, but immediately dismissed the thought. She didn't want to risk upsetting anyone again.

Orihime searched for anything to say. A thanks for defending her? An apology for his predicament? A compliment on his hair?

Nothing.

Shifting awkwardly, she folded her hands at the hem of her skirt. Why did this always happen? Her words always seemed to abandon her whenever he was near. She half expected him leave in the midst of her faltering. Why wouldn't he? He only ever had patience for her under orders from direct authority. Why did he seem to be waiting for her to say something? Anything.

What could she possibly have left to say to him?

"Hi."

* * *

"Whoa."

Mizuiro's normally even voice trembled slightly from the sight just witnessed from the rooftop. Tatsuki grimaced, arms crossed as stiffly as stone as she gazed down at the very same scene. Her best friend had been practically cornered by four of her former kidnappers, unaided by any of her friends under strict orders.

"Kami, who were those guys?!" Keigo leaned into the fence, a look of overblown horror stretched over his face. "I knew there was something off about that new sensei and that college guy!"

The corner of Tatsuki's mouth twitched in her scowl as she reluctantly agreed with him. Rukia and Chad were on either side of her at the rooftop fence, alert and watchful. Ichigo stood at the center of the group, gripping the metal coils with a barely suppressed urge to intervene. Under Squad Ten's watch, the entire group was forced to hold back the collective urge to protect their princess.

"Speaking of which," Mizuiro looked at them carefully. "How do you guys know sensei and that Ul guy?"

The two in question were the only ones left with Orihime as the other two, the scary guy with the punkish blue hair and the taller man with the torpid expression, left the school grounds.

"Yeah, what the heck are you guys not telling us?!" Keigo persisted, clinging to Ichigo's arm. "Don't tell me they're former gang members that you've drawn to our peaceful school grounds! And what the hell's that guy's deal with Orihime? What scandalous development has occurred beyond my-"

Two fists conncected with either side of his face.

"Be quiet." Ichigo and Ishida echoed each other, not tearing their eyes from Orihime.

"It's complicated." Chad offered in a deep rumble.

"Do they have some kind of history?" Mizuiro asked tentatively.

The lunch group fell silent at the question, until Rukia answered softly. "Something like that."

"That's enough. We're leaving, too"

All heads turned to the edge of the fence, where Hitsugaya was perched on the upper corner, looking at the notification on his cell phone. Slipping the device into his pocket, he wordlessly dropped back onto the rooftop, and exited to the stairway leading back into the building. Renji, Yumichika, and Ikkaku, who had been lazing on the other side of the belfry, grumbled and followed their captain. Rukia squared her tiny shoulders, dutifully following the squadron despite her worry for Orihime.

"Oi, you heard the captain." Renji yelled. "Enough gawking!"

Reluctantly, the group tore themselves away from the fence and settled down for what little time they had for lunch. Ichigo spared one last disapproving glance at the sight of an Espada so intolerably close to his friend, and went to seat himself next to Chad.

Tatsuki remained at the fence, disregarding the order. Rangiku, who hadn't yet left with her squad, sauntered over to where Tatsuki watched Orihime folding in on herself in front of the dark-haired Espada. Yet, her eyes refused to break away from his.

"I told you she could handle it." Rangiku smiled knowingly, crystal blue eyes glittering in assurance.

Tatsuki smirked grudgingly, recalling how small Orihime had looked next to that blue-haired man. Small, but unwavering. In spite of her disapproval, she felt a swell of pride.

"She is _your_ best friend." Rangiku patted her shoulder before going off to join her squad.

* * *

**Author's Note: Poor Hime. Always so awkward around boys that she likes...**

**Please rate and review! **


	3. Chapter 3: Severance

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 3: Loss

* * *

A/N: **I hadn't intended this chapter to turn out so serious...I think I got too ruminative. **

**I'm not betraying the genre: there will be plenty of more humor and romance to come. Just need to get through the development! Thanks for being patient.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

"H-how did this happen...?"

It was an innocent question, coming from an equally innnocent girl. Orihime gaped in shock and horror at the...the injustice wrongly imposed upon the gang of ruffians in the alleyway. It was a horrid sight: unconscious bodies stacked over one another, purple-bruised faces, and noticeable, human-shaped indents in the concrete.

Was this ironic? Not really. Weak groups tended to be dominated by far mightier forces, i.e. a hot-headed, ex-hollow soldier with a metal baseball bat.

"Grimmjow, wh-where did you get that?" She asked with a shaky voice.

The man in question was seated atop the groaning pile of mobsters with the air of a king, with the slender bat as a symbol of ruling power in one hand, and a bag of groceries in the other. He responded to her second question with a narrowed glare. "It's theirs."

"I see..." She gazed down at the victims of the crime. "But how did all of this...occur?"

He snorted and stood from the throne of bodies, conscientously making sure to stomp on each of the scattered victims as if he were walking down a red carpet (the red may have been from the blood stains).

"These motherfuckers popped up from out of nowhere while I was walking through here." He explained unabashedly. "From the way they were attacking, they practically handed this piece of crap to me."

"What could they want from you?" She asked, to which he replied by staring at her incredulously.

"Unbelievable." He said with a arched brow. "How does your brigade of body guards even let you leave your house?"

There was that condescending sarcasm that made her throat tighten and brow slightly furrow.

"Let's think critically, princess." He sneered. "What _would_ a bunch of penniless, and now quite literally 'beat-down', punks want from random people? Entertain me and that thought."

A prideful, indignant, and adamant woman would have reacted angrily or even slapped him for the insult. While offended, Orihime was too gentle to lash out in retaliation.

"Money." She answered patiently. "Or whatever it is that you happen to be carrying."

He grunted in response, and started to walk off. Orihime gave one last worried glance to the beaten up boys, feeling guilty that she couldn't bring out her Shun Shun Rikka to heal them out in public. She sighed and walked off in the direction of her home, unaware of who was in front of her. The sound of her clicking heels following his scuffing soles on the concrete pavement came to a halt as he simultaneously did so. Orihime had to stop all of the gears in her legs to keep herself from crashing into Grimmjow's back. He turned around to shoot that infamous, predatory glare at her.

"Quit following me." Came out the harsh words. She flinched back at the bite in his voice, but stood her ground.

"I-I go the same way." She explained softly. "We live in the same apartment complex. Remember?"

He let out a growl of frustration and stalked off in the same direction as before. Judging from the lack of communication, or in his case, derogatory insults, Orihime assumed it was safe to continue on. He didn't walk as fast as she expected, seeing as she caught up to him in a few quick strides. Their sudden proximity seemed to agitate him, but he said nothing and continued glaring forward as they walked on in silence. The rustling of plastic from his side piqued her childish curiosity, and she had to restrain herself from asking of its contents. As seen from the logo, it was a supermarket bag, so it must have had more home supplies for the Espadas' new residence. Somehow, seeing a former member of Aizen's army carrying around brand-name shopping bags through a street plaza was absurdly funny. She hadn't payed attention to it when she saw Ulquiorra do it just over week ago; but substituting Grimmjow in the situation made it all the more hilarious.

"The hell's up with you?" He scowled at the sight of he trying to hold back giggle. A smile spread on Orihime's lips and she shook her head. "I remembered something funny."

"Weirdo." He muttered, and his scowl made the soft laugh bubbled up from her. He turned and stopped in front of her with a menacing glare ready. Not that it mattered: she couldn't really take it seriously.

"You think I'm funny, girl?"

"Do you want my honest answer?" Orihime couldn't help but smile up at his angry look. A short second later, his glower subsided and he flung the bag over his shoulder.

"You are _so_ annoying."

_Spoken like a true young adult. _Orihime thought with another light laugh. "I was just wondering what was in the bag." She looked up at him with an apologetic smile. "That's all."

"Even though it's none of your damn business," He adjusted the heavy-looking bag over his shoulder. "I'll humor you further: they're ingredients."

"Oh. For your guys' dinner."

"No, for our secret poison gas bomb." He muttered. "Yes, for dinner."

"Mmm..." She trailed off. Well, as strange as it seemed, the Espada would need to make their own meals now since devouring souls wasn't an option. Hopefully.

"So they made _you_ go out and buy supplies? Why?" She couldn't help but wonder. The response was not at all what she expected.

"Because it's my turn to cook tonight."

Had Orihime possessed any less grace, she may have fallen over. She blinked at him in shock. "Y-you can cook?"

He scoffed. "We'll find out tonight."

"Wow." She breathed. Sure, this would have been funny too, but Orihime was too shellshocked. "I never would have guessed it..."

After a brief silence, he added in a noticeably softer voice, "Me niether."

"What the-? Orihime?"

The unlikely pair turned their heads at the sound of the familiar husky voice to see two familiar figures approaching them.

"Oh!" A happy smile lit up Orihime's face, in stark contrast to Grimmjow's aggravated groan. "Hi Rukia! Hi Ishida!" She bounced up and waved to them, while Grimmjow brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

Despite the glare towards Grimmjow, Rukia greeted Orihime with her normal, sweet smile and hello. Ishida gave a curt nod in her direction.

"What are you guys up to?" Orihime asked.

Rukia arched a fine black brow. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Oh well..." Orihime glanced up at the glaring Espada, who obviously wasn't about to say anything. "We just ran into each other here. We were both walking home."

"I see." Ishida noted with a distrustful glare at the bags hanging from Grimmjow's hands. The man in question gave an angry look back. "What, you need to check for contents, officer?"

"If you're so willing." Ishida said with the trademark glare behind his spectacles.

"There just groceries, Ishida." Orihime assured. "Nothing suspicious, like a secret poison gas bomb, or anything." She stifled a giggle at her friends' confused faces. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but didn't scowl.

"As you can see, I'm innocent. So would you kindly leave me be and get the fuck outta my way?" He said in mock-politeness.

Rukia stared up at him coldly. "Nobody's asking you to stay."

"I beg to differ, little dwarf." He said in a low voice as he lifted his hand for them to see the wristband. Orihime could see the uncomfortable tension form in Rukia's tiny shoulders as he slid past her and Ishida. Even their little Soul Reaper friend didn't approve of the symbols of imprisonment.

"Little dwarf..." She muttered under her breath with a childish pout.

"Dwarves were so cute in Snow White." Orihime said comfortingly.

"It's better than a rodent." Ishida pointed out.

"Ugh." Rukia crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. "He still hasn't apologized for that."

"Between the kicks and punches, I don't see where he's not getting the right incentive." Ishida said with his familiar subtle sarcasm.

"Ichigo will come around, Rukia." Orihime assured. "Now, your guy's turn: what are _you_ two doing here?"

_Wait...could this have anything to do with Ishida's crush on Rukia from a while ago? Is his love still that strong? _Orihime thought excitedly.

"I was actually out buying art supplies for my new sketch book." Rukia said with a proud smile. "Since I don't have any money, Ichigo came along to provide for my financial aid."

"More like you forced him..." Ishida muttered, and she slapped him lightly on the arm.

"We found Ishida in the crafts department of the store." The petite girl explained with a sly grin. "No doubt planning ahead for his future career as a fashion designer and consultant."

"I have no such intentions." He crossed his arms, but niether of the girls missed the brief sparkle that lit up his dark blue eyes.

"I've been meaning to visit the art store." Orihime said. Then she realized that the present group of people was three in counting, and one person was missing. "By the way, where is Ichigo now?"

"He said he was going to buy drinks." Rukia answered as she looked back down street corner they came from.

A sudden beep from Rukia's purse alerted them. As she checked it the light in her purple eyes sharpened and she hissed a curse.

"How many?" Ishida asked urgently as he stepped forward.

"Roughly thirty." Was the grim answer. "Those numbers will multiply as soon as the Garganta opens."

"Do you think Ichigo and the others know?" Orihime asked with her brow furrowed in worry.

Her petite friend's eyes perked up as she seemed to pick up on something. She sighed and held up three fingers.

"Three...two...one."

From the perpendicular street beyond the building corner, a flash of black and orange smashed into the brick wall of a convenience store. Following the impact was a familiar pained grunt and an even more familiar string of curses.

"Your timing is impeccable." Ishida said to the short girl, sounding slightly impressed.

"I try my hardest." Rukia said as they all ran over to help Ichigo.

* * *

Ichigo never considered himself an unlucky person. Sure enough, Karma had kicked his ass around for a bunch of stupid things he had done. And, of course, when the Universe was done giving him a bashing, he could always count on Rukia to finish the job. Regardless, he had deserved those beat downs. But what the hell did he do to deserve an ambush from a whole fleet of hollows? And Menos to be exact.

Ichigo slashed one through the abdomen, and watched how its remains purefied into white mist. A rumble of roars sounded from the other side of town.

"Damn..." He said as he flash stepped to the scene of chaos. Three of them, larger than the others with distinct, animalistic features. Adjuchas.

He gritted his teeth and rushed at them. They were stronger than the normal hordes that usually invaded the city; he may even need to activate his bankai. He successfully cut down the tallest one and escaped its falling form to target the other two. From his peripheral vision, Ichigo could see his friends fighting their own battles with the soulless creatures. Too many more were arriving through the Garganta, and he could see several ominous-looking Gillians and Adjuchas, even a few Vasto Lorde.

"Oh, just great." He muttered as he sliced through the skull mask of a reptilian Adjucha. He leapt off its back as it collapsed onto the street, ready to do the same to the final one.

Until a fourth Menos swiped him into yet another innocent building with its tail. He hissed as he crashed into a glass window, and broken shards spiked against his back. He fell to the concrete with a painful thud and struggled to get to his feet. To make things even more exciting, the same huge ass Adjucha was charging his way like an angry bull...except that scenario would have been far more preferable.

Before he could force himself to rise and cut down his foe, or before his foe could get just a few feet from snapping him like a chew toy, the space in front of Ichigo distorted into a human form.

Well, sort of human.

The hollow's charge was forced to a dead end. The force of its impact cracked the pavement beneath Ichigo's feet. Gusts of air blew back from the sudden halt and shattered the remaining store windows. Glass and dust rained behind Ichigo as he looked up to see a tanned hand, adorned with a dark wristband, holding back the feral Adjucha from him.

"I'm disappointed, Soul Reaper."

Ichigo grit his teeth at the sight of Grimmjow's mocking smirk as he effortlessly restrained the growling hollow's advance.

"Getting your ass tossed around by this guy? You've lost your edge."

"Shut the hell up." Ichigo growled as he staggered to his feet. Grimmjow glared down at his panting form.

"Pathetic."

The Adjucha thrashed around ineffectively, unable to escape Grimmjow's steel grasp. The Sexta Espada's grin slowly widened into his infamous, maniacal smile. A cyclone of air and blood red energy concentrated at his palm. The hollow and several other ones behind it were vaporized in a hot red flash before Ichigo could do anything. Ichigo coughed from the smoke and gave an angry glare in Grimmjow's direction. The smirk had dissipated from his face as he stared off in the direction of his vanquished victims.

"Absolutely pathetic."

It was barely detectable, but Ichigo thought he heard a strain in the blue-haired Espada's voice. The slight squint of his cerulean eyes made it seem like he was...in pain?

Another roar sounded and the pavement shook thunderously like mini-earthquakes. Another enormous hollow appeared, this time a Menos Grande, but instead of attacking them, it passed them by in a desperate hurry to escape something. Ichigo's trained eye spotted two distortions of space just above the creature. In a timeless instant, blood spurted out from twin incisions on the apex of its head. With one last animalistic cry, it fell and crashed down to the street.

"Show offs." Grimmjow smirked up at the Menos's falling form. Had he been less aware, Ichigo would have been startled when Ulquiorra and Nnoitra dropped down on either side of him.

"Man! We actually got a few big ones this time." The taller Espada exclaimed with his license plate-sized grin.

Grimmjow let out a dry laugh. "You make it sound like a fishing trip."

"Same difference."

"Why are you guys here?" Ichigo asked with an annoyed look. "Did Squad Ten call you for backup?"

Ulquiorra brushed the black bangs back from his intense eyes. "We came under the Soul Society's order."

"Like hell we wouldn't take advantage of all of this havoc." Nnoitora smirked.

"I was out here anyway." Was Grimmjow's simple, mocking answer. "Might as well have some fun in this shithole of a town."

Huffing in frustration, Ichigo turned to Ulquiorra. "And the rest of the Espada?"

"They are all with the Soul Reapers in the outer levels of the city where the Menos are pooring in." He looked up at the grinning black slit in the sky. "The Garganta is closing up. They'll be retreating in some time soon, but we should kill off however many are left."

"Downtown here looks pretty clear." Nnoitra's grin blazed. "Let's crash the party uptown."

"Hold it."

The three Arrancar turned their gazes on the grave-looking Soul Reaper. Light flashed in the deep amber of Ichigo's eyes.

"When you fight the Menos, don't kill them. Let the final blows go to the Soul Reapers." He said seriously. "Your zanpakutos don't purify them like ours do. Leave that to us."

In just a few seconds, Ichigo was knocked off his feet again and into yet another building, but this time the agent of violence was a far more powerful, and livid, hollow with cold blue eyes.

"Are you telling me," Grimmjow grasped Ichigo's shoulder and smashed him up against the already cracked building wall. "To battle an enemy without finishing it off? To show weakness?"

Nnoitra scoffed. "Just so you and the 'heroes' can take the final blows, and have your glory in saving their poor souls? Who the hell do you think you are, brat?"

"I mean it!" Ichigo growled through bared teeth. "Don't kill them off! They deserve their chance with the Soul Society."

"Why?" Grimmjow asked with frosty edge to his voice. "Isn't the point of the whole 'justice' bullshit to give the bad guys what they deserve? And don't they deserve to be 'erased' from this world?" His voice dropped even lower. "Right?"

Ichigo fumed and shoved him away. "No, it's not right. Killing isn't justice. Their souls are tortured, and we can free them by purifying them from their sins."

"What about the souls that get trapped in Hell?"

All eyes turned to the sound of Ulquiorra's cold voice. He stepped up to the two with his hands in his pocket, looking utterly apathetic to the matter.

"Is such a terrible existence of punishment better than no existence at all? Is it preferable to be out through such cruelty, all for the misdeeds committed in human life?"

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, but he paled considerably. "Those who sinned are condemned to their fate."

"Why not try to save them?" He pushed further. "Is it because they descended down to the core of their beings? The center of all human corruption: sin?"

Ichigo's hands trembled in anger and coldness. Ulquiorra continued on mercilessly.

"Those who resort to horrible things must have suffered greatly as well. Perhaps, even worse than those who didn't, which may be the purpose of their wrongdoings. So," He repeated. "Why not save them, as well?"

The complete lack of...of any feeling in his voice and eyes made Ichigo shiver.

"Doesn't seem very heroic." Grimmjow said coldly.

For all of the chaos happening around them, Ulquiorra managed to completely capture Ichigo's attention and rage. "It's a fair question."

It wasn't fair. For all he had done as a Soul Reaper, Ichigo had never once questioned his actions. He believed that he was helping souls with the power that he had. However, even those who had been sentenced to Hell crossed his mind from time to time; shivers always passed through his body every time he did. Truthfully, the thoughts haunted him : who was he to condemn someone to eternal punishment? Some small rational part of his conscience chided him for his thoughts. If they were taken away to their punishment, then the rest of human souls would be safe. The good guys would win and the bad guys would get what they deserved, right?

He had always hated that cliché, and now he couldn't believe he was caught in his own controversy over it.

He clenched his jaw stubbornly and gripped Zangetsu tighter. "I don't have time for your damn questions. I'm not a hero. I fight because I have to protect something. Not to satisfy some stupid desire for bloodshed. None of _you _would understand." He spat the words with disgust and hatred.

Shadows passed over the bright green of Ulquiorra's slitted eyes. He turned his head toward the direction of the closing Garganta.

"Of course not." Nnoitra muttered acerbicly. "We're the punished beasts that suffer the same fate."

He used his sonido to disappear off to the battle site. Grimmjow drew out his sword from the sheath at his belt.

"Death would have preferable to this shitty existence." He too disappeared off to the fight.

Ulquiorra stayed behind, still staring up at the Garganta with a look in his eye that Ichigo couldn't recognize. His lifeless gaze drifted down to Ichigo for a short moment before he drew his blade and turned in the direction of the east city edge.

"We won't destroy any hollows under orders." He said calmly. "But, I expect an explanation to your reasoning, Ichigo."

Ichigo watched as he vanished into thin air, and off to kill members of his own race and aid his former enemies

* * *

Twenty-seven Menos Grande lay in crumpled heaps around him. All by means of his fighting, his sword, his power. Those who fell to his blade were all his prey.

And they were being finished off by his 'allies'.

The thought, and worse, the sight, made Grimmjow sick. Actually, it infuriated him. Several scrawny Soul Reapers gave the final blows to his prey, sending their remains scattering off like white pixels into the air. This whole purification process looked more like spreading a polluting disease into the air. Some of the puny bastards had fallen even after he and the other Espada had weakened the Menos. He noticed the human girl off to the side healing the weaklings. The look in her grey eyes was the same from when she had healed his arm long ago. Even though she had been scared at that time, there had been a strange glimmer in her eyes that Grimmjow could identify as remorse and sympathy. Why the hell would she feel sorry for idiots that made the error of getting injured in battle? They chose to fight on their own accord, and they weren't strong enough. It was pitiable in that it was pathetic, not sad.

He leapt off the body of the last Gillian he had defeated and landed near the rest of his brothers and sisters. None of them had been permitted to kill either. Of course, idiots like Yammy, Nnoitra, and Aaronierro had a few slip ups and accidentally finished off their foes. For each time, they had been punished through the damn bands on their wrists. Fury engulfed him as he recalled his first experience with the Soul Society's punishment; he and the rest of the Espada had experienced the searing pain to their systems upon killing off the hollows that invaded this stupid town. Grimmjow endured through the pain, but it really took away the actual pain of winning a battle: the exhilarating pain.

Now he didn't even have that any more. What was the point of busting your ass in battle just to have someone else take the credit for the final killing attack? Where was the satsifaction of fighting if there was no victory? Taking away that feeling of truly winning a fight cut deep into Grimmjow. It just added on to the list of things that had been taken away from him since the nascent of his existence as an Arrancar: he had lost his fracciónes, his title as Espada, his freedom, and his ability to satiate his appetite for battle.

Such demoralizing losses sent the fear of deindividuation coursing like shockwaves through him. Realistically speaking, what did he have left other than his identity and his fellow Espada?

He sheathed his blade and cracked his knuckles as he walked to the rest of his comrades. Barragan stood at the center of the crowd, with the rest of the Espada standing in numeric order behind him. The white haired, midget captain stood in front of the Shinigami and a bunch of the high school brats. Grimmjow took his spot in between Zommari and Nnoitra, directly in front of that glaring Kurosaki bastard.

"The Menos have been defeated for today, but town damages have exceeded their limits." Captain Hitsugaya said as he looked up at the elderly Espada. "I understand that it is difficult to do so, but managing collateral damage is important."

Barragan's scarred eyes peered down at the young boy with controlled contempt. "I believe that, for our first attempt in clearing out a mass invasion, we managed to keep a fair level of damage to the infrastructure. There is nothing irreplaceable in this this town."

Hitsugaya appeared to grit his teeth, but he remained even-tempered. "Yes. Even so, the safety of citizens shouldn't be ignored."

"The hell do they matter? If they die, you have more souls to save, right?" Nnoitra shrugged as he busied himself with balancing Santa Teresa in his palm. "Ow!"

The line of Espada from Grimmjow to Yammy took a step back to avoid Santa Teresa's curved blades as it tipped over and crashed to the ground. Nnoitra rubbed his head where the hilt of Nel's sword jabbed him.

"The hell, you bitch?"

"Be quiet, Nnoi-Nnoi." She scolded. Several Soul Reapers, and even a few Espada, stifled laughs at the cutesy nickname. "They don't _want _people to die."

"At any rate," Halibel continued over Nnoitra's mumbled curses. "We want to further discuss the option of going to Hueco Mundo to track down the source of the Menos' reasons for arriving here in such grand numbers."

"Kisuke Urahara has the ability to open the Garganta, correct?" Szayel inquired as he adjusted his glasses. "With his assistance, we believe we can go on an expedition to find any leads at Las Noches."

"The Soul Reapers would accompany us." Barragan added begrudgingly. "Of course."

"An expedition to Hueco Mundo can only be approved by the Head Captain." Said the spiky haired, red headed lieutenant with the tattoos. "Urahara doesn't have the authority to let us go through."

"Nor is it likely that he'll let us go himself." Hitsugaya added.

"Are you that reluctant to let us go to Hueco Mundo?" Aaronierro challenged behind the bandaged mask of his. "I suppose it's only fair that you expect our full trust and cooperation, but have no desire to reciprocate those feelings yourselves."

"That has nothing to do with it." Rukia threw back at him. "We are niether prepared nor allowed to pass into Hueco Mundo at this time. There will be no planning for an expedition until the Head Captain gives the final word."

"I wonder how many more attacks it'll take for that geezer to get off his ass and make a decision." Yammy muttered bitterly.

"Watch your mouth." Ikkaku warned, tightening his grip on his zanpakuto.

"There is one pertinent issue that we need to find a solution to."

All eyes turned to Ulquiorra. He slipped his hands in his pockets and stared out at all of the guarded Soul Reapers.

"In regard to our battles against the hollows, we need to have our weapons modified so that we may be permitted to kill them." He said smoothly, but with a demanding edge in his voice. "Your Shinigami forces aren't trained well enough to finish them off, even after we weaken them. It's also a problem for you if one of us accidentally kills a hollow."

Grimmjow didn't miss when his eyes momentarily flicked down to his wristband before he continued. "If we are able to defeat the hollows without facing the consequences of erasing their existence, then it would be easier for us to fight at full power against stronger Menos."

The half-pint captain in front of the Soul Reapers adjusted the scarf at his neck before replying. "We've discussed this issue with the research division. Tests have been running to modify your zanpakutos to be able to purify hollow souls. Results have proven promising, but there's a catch."

The Espada listened intently as Hitsugaya silently weighed his words. "The only way to give your zanpakutos the ability to purify hollows is to take away their hollow properties. In other words, your release forms will be restricted."

"Hell no."

Despite there being several other individuals more powerful than he, nearly every person in the crowd tensed at the cold fury in Grimmjow's voice. Had he just heard right? That little shrimp better pray that he hadn't.

"You want us to give up our power?"

"Jeagerjaques-"

"Answer me!" He roared. His lungs burned from his scream, but he didn't care.

"Grimmjow-" Halibel began.

"You freaking heard them, Tia!" He yelled. He turned on the Shinigami with absolute rage coursing through him. "What more do you wanna take from us?!"

"That's enough, Grimmjow!" Barragan ordered.

"What happened to your pride, _king?"_. He coated the word with acid. "You're just going to let them take what makes you a hollow? The symbol of your power?!"

"Grimmjow." Ulquiorra's normally calm voice was now severe. "Calm down."

"How can I when you yourself look like you're on the brink of an explosion, Ulquiorra?"

How could they not understand? They should all be retaliating with him! Didn't they understand this loss?

"Just listen-"

"They captured us!" He roared. "Humiliated us! Imprisoned us! And now they wanna take away what makes us 'us', just because they own us!"

The look in Ulquiorra's eye was mixed between anger and understanding.

"Nobody owns us."

"Tell that to the prison bracelets." He held up his wrist to show the sign of their condemnation. He hated these damn things as much as he hated the Arrancar uniform back from their time in Las Noches. They were both symbols of his incarceration.

Nnoitra held Santa Teresa out in front of him, its gleam matching the glare in his serpent eyes.

"Cool it, Grimm." He said in a low voice, even though he looked just as scornful.

"Are you all actually willing to go through with this?" He fumed. "Give up _our_ powers of _our_ own race to kill members _of_ _our own race?"_ He enunciated each word with absolute hatred for the flawed logic.

"You're not killing them." Ichigo stepped out from the crowd, looking just as furious as from before.

"Stay out of this, you damn Soul Reaper." Grimmjow's growl was filled to the brink with sinful wrath. "You think you understand anything of what's happening to us?!" He stalked up to the orange-headed bastard, shoving him continuously until he reached the wall of a building. "Just because you've been at this little summer reaping job for a while and you think you're stronger. Imagine losing everything you had to those you hate!"

In fury, Ichigo shoved Grimmjow back with equal force and a burning look in his eyes.

"What do you know about loss?! About real loss?! Other than with me defeating you in our last fight?"

"Ichigo! Stop!" Ishida and Chad held back their enraged comrade's from a fight he would regret later.

"You callin' it back on, bastard?!" Grimmjow shouted as Yammy, Nnoitra, and Szayel struggled to restrain him. An Espada at boiling point was difficult to control.

"It doesn't even matter if you have your release!" Ichigo yelled as he broke free. "I'll destroy you with or without it!"

"You mean with _your_ hollow?" Grimmjow challenged in a heavy voice. "Using your power to put another being through Hell for his proclaimed 'sins'? Just because he's a beast?"

Every eye was on the two of them, including a pair of beautiful, horrified gray ones. Grimmjow was too pissed to care about any of them.

"You wanna know why you can't answer Ulquiorra?" He snarled as the rest of his brothers tried to hold him back. His flaming rieatsu was encircled him as he leveled his glare with his enemy's. They wanted to contain _this _power? Let the motherfuckers try.

"You're the same beast as us."

The stunned crowd could only watch as the warriors, consumed by chaotic rage, broke out in a fight.

* * *

The door to Casa Espada was kicked open yet again, but this time the hinges were spared from their torment. Always forgetful of his own house key, Ulquiorra took it into his own hands to break into their home on a regular basis. He and the rest of the Espada pooled into their apartment in the dead of night. As they entered the living room, they found Lilynette sitting on the recliner chair with a stack of volumes of a shojou manga she had recently gotten interested in. Before she could grace them with her sarcastic greeting, she balked at the somber expressions of her older Arrancar: all except Grimmjow, whose unconscious body was carried in on Ulquiorra's shoulder.

"Should I even ask?"

"No." Stark replied quietly.

Ulquiorra walked silently to the couch to deposit the slack form of his comrade. He and Stark actually had to knock him and the Substitute Soul Reaper out cold to stop the fighting. It had not been pretty. Ulquiorra sighed in relief that Grimmjow had been asleep the whole trip home. Had he been awake, he would thrown a tangent over having to be carried like a child.

What did he expect when he did just that, and had a complete temper tantrum?

"Did you put Wonderwiess to bed?" Stark asked.

"Yeah, he's asleep." She repiled softly. "Will Grimm be okay?" Lily asked with slight worry as Nel filled her in on the story.

Zommari nodded. "His injuries have been healed by the girl, Orihime. He just needs rest."

"Looks like he really burnt himself out this time." Szayel drawled with a tired sigh.

"He exerted a lot of energy." Aaronierro mentioned sullenly. "At least that Soul Reaper got what was coming to him."

"It would be best if he rests for awhile." Barragan said with an almost fatherly firmness. "Boy hasn't been sleeping at all, and no doubt those damn Reapers were trying to control him with that wristband."

The room went silent as each Arrancar felt the hallucinogenic sensation of stinging spreading from their wrists. They were all forced to wear them, even Lily. The simple solution of taking them off wasn't an option: they were permanently attached to the gigais. The pain was excruciating each time they made and error in battle, and even their superior pain tolerance was barely enough to keep them from succumbing to the torment. Before this whole progression, Ulquiorra would have condemned Grimmjow for pointlessly enduring through such sufferings only to face more of it just for the sake of fighting; now, Ulquiorra couldn't imagine what it took to surpass that kind of agony.

"The internal pain may have damaged the gigai's system." Szayel said. "We should probably take him to that Urahara some time for a check up. I'm curious to learn more about the mechanics of these gigais."

"He must have taken a lot of damage aside from the attacks of that damn Soul Reaper brat." Aaronierro said.

"Yeah." Nnoitra confirmed quietly, keeping his eye on his sleeping comrade. "Fucker really lost his temper this time."

"Hell yeah, he did." Yammy grumbled, clutching the edge of his jaw. "He and that damn shrimp nicked me here twice." With a look over at Grimmjow, the disgruntled look in his beady eyes mellowed down into something that looked almost regretful. "Can't blame him though."

"Me neither." Nnoitra said with uncharacteristic softness.

"For once," Halibel whispered as she trailed her sad, verdant eyes over their listless brother. "I can agree with you both."

For a terse moment, all was silent except for Grimmjow's soft snores. The rest of the Espada dispersed out to the hallways to their respective bedrooms.

"Kinda sucks since dinner was on him tonight." Yammy rumbled. 'Ow!"

"Pick your moments, dumbass." Nnoitra muttered.

"No more fights " Barragan cautioned. 'We've had enough of those." The little skirmish was concluded by Stark's soft yawn.

Neliel was the last in line, but didn't follow the rest. She instead turned around to see Ulquiorra standing over the couch their brother was snoozing on. He had one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his shoulder.

"You should have asked Hime to heal your wound, Ulqui." She murmured. "She was doing it for the rest of us when we got hurt in the fights."

The slightest grimace settled itself on his rigid features. Yammy hadn't been the only one injured in trying to stop the rampaging idiots today. Kurosaki's Zangetsu, in full bankai form no less, had ripped his shoulder. That in itself brought back all kinds of fond memories of the Soul Reaper-Hollow playing surgeon amputator to Ulquiorra's regenerative limbs.

"It's nothing serious. It will heal with time."

"Maybe for our old bodies." She scolded lightly as she approached him. They stood together in silence, just watching Grimmjow sleep away the tensions of the day. It almost amused Ulquiorra how peaceful Grimmjow looked when he was asleep: the normal tight slant of his brows smoothed out, his facial structure was relaxed, and all part of him was slack and unalert. Nel bent down to smooth out a few loose strands of hair that fell to his forehead.

"He feels warm." She murmured sadly.

"He's a hot-head." He said absent-mindedly, not even realizing his own lame joke.

"But I bet he feels cold on the inside."

"How can he with all of that rage?"

"Emptiness usually feels cold." She told him as she raised herself and leveled her large, hazel-eyed gaze to his. For a woman trapped within such a childish mentality, she just managed to summarize Grimmjow's state of being and Ulquiorra's whole existence in a few short words. With another worried glance at Grimmjow, she asked Ulquiorra the question that he had been mulling over ever since Grimmjow's verbal rampage.

"Do you feel the same way he does?"

The simple answer: yes. Of course he felt the same way. Even if none of them would admit it aloud, all of the Espada would rather die than have their power stolen from them; Grimmjow simply voiced out all of their thoughts for them. He had lost his status as an Espada once for insubordination, but his release had not been restricted. Their power was at the center of their being. For all of the polarities that they exhibited as individuals, the Espada were all familiar with the pride of a warrior. Like Grimmjow had said, it was all they had left. To have that taken away was to lose themselves yet again to misery of death.

"He behaved irrationally, idiotically, and and above all recklessly." Ulquiorra answered. "But I can't disagree with him."

"Me niether. Poor Grimmy." She said softly. "Ulqui?"

"I'm just going to get some air." He said as he walked out the door. "Good night, Nel."

"Good night..." She mumbled as the door closed behind him.

Ulquiorra leaned against the wooden frame, wincing slightly at the pressure on the gash in his shoulder. He let out a slow, silent sigh, something he couldn't recall ever doing in his whole existence. People told him that whenever he didn't appear cold and unfeeling (which was rare), he looked melancholic. They say that the expression reveals the state of mind. For once, it felt as though his facial expression conveyed his...

Feelings?

Great. It was _that_ subject that he still couldn't wrap his head around.

Ulquiorra heaved himself up off the door and stood out to the railing. There, he looked up at those alien points of light called stars, which immediately reminded him of the girl next door, and the cognitive dissonance over the concept of 'feeling' that she had left him in.

He thought he had at least had some closure on the it after his defeat at Las Noches's canopy. He would have been content with dying with a shaky understanding of the 'heart' that the girl kept trying to assure him of. Now that he had been resurrected, his thoughts begged for some concrete assurance of the foriegn concept. It contradicted every thing that he had ever believed about his and everyone else's existence. Looking back at it, his materialistic philosophy seemed so irrational and hollow (no pun intended): it based itself on the belief of that which wasn't visible wasn't existent. It was her that made him realize that these invisible concepts were definitely there, but simply abstract, like thought, personality, and emotion. The last few were so alien to him. He knew of them and he could vaguely perceive and understand them as he watched others, but he himself had difficulty in recognizing his own capability for such sensations. His fellow Espada could access them easily, even Zommari and Halibel to smaller degrees: what about him?

"Ulquiorra?"

He didn't have to turn around to know it was her; he could register her soft voice based on the odd way it always made the tension ebb out of his body.

"Yes, woman?"

She let out a small sigh at his habit of not calling her by her name. Truthfully, he only did it out of familiarity. Calling her anything else wouldn't have felt right.

"What are you doing out here alone?" She inquired as she approached him. The outfit she had worn today had been traded in for a plain white dress. It was ridiculous because all white looked the same to him, but it was a faint reminder of the Arrancar uniform she wore at her chamber in Las Noches.

He flipped the black bangs out of his eyes. "I could ask the same thing."

She pursed her lips at his curt reply. "Well...I asked first."

Ulquiorra let out another soundless sigh. He really wasn't in the mood to answer. If it had been anyone else, he would have told them to go away.

"Um...just need a breather?" She offered with hesitance. His eyes slowly drifted over to her awaiting expression. Unable to find any words, he simply nodded his head. She joined him at the railing, standing unexpectedly close so that their shoulders brushed against each other. With difficulty, he managed to only slightly jerk back from the sting, but that was pointless. She was immediately alerted.

"Is something wrong?"

Ulquiorra inwardly rolled his eyes. He had forgotten how perceptive she was.

"It's nothing grave." He said as he clutched his forearm.

"I remember seeing you holding your shoulder after the...incident." She insisted. "If you're hurt, let me heal it"

He could have argued with her that it was a simple wound and that she need not worry herself over it. But what would be the purpose? She would patiently pester him over it until he reluctantly obliged. He had no desire to engage in a circular argument, so why not save some time and oxygen? He was barely done nodding before she activated her Shun Shun Rikka.

He slid his arm out of one side of his open shirt to reveal the deep red gash. It looked worse that he thought, so much that _she _looked more pained than him. At least that Shinigami hadn't ripped the shirt or the tank top underneath; the last thing Ulquiorra wanted was to go clothes shopping with Nel again.

"I reject."

The pins in her hair materialized into the little fairies that made up her power, and created the signature curved surface above his wound. Ulquiorra marveled at how the skin fibers easily sewed themselves back together, erasing any evidence of there ever being such a disfiguration there. The warm, orange glow that came from the healing dome was completely correspondent to her own gentle nature; at least, in Ulquiorra's eyes it was.

"Was it Ichigo or Grimmjow?" She asked hesitantly. He saw the glimmer of sadness in those diamond eyes of hers.

"Ichigo." Ulquiorra answered impassively.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled. Her voice was muffled with guilt. He could never understand how she could give such meaningful apologies away so easily. Unlike most others, her remorse was never an empty sentiment: all of her feelings were genuine.

"Apologizing for something that you aren't at fault for is a worthless gesture." He reprimanded her guilelessly. "You weren't the one who injured me."

"I-it's not just for your arm..." She trailed off, her voice thick with pain. He could have prodded her for a clearer answer, but he held his tongue. Something about the look in her eyes made all of the words he could have said disappear from his mind.

The light from her healing dimmed down until the dome surface dissipated, and the Shun Shun Rikka returned to the pins in her coppery hair. The moment was void of words for some time, and her gaze retreated to the night sky. How odd that it was when she was so crestfallen that the light in her eyes surpassed that of the army of stars glaring down from the sea of night.

"What is it that you're trying to say, woman?"

She let out a deep breath and hugged her fragile frame as if no one else would.

"It may be worthless, but...I really am sorry. I heard Grimmjow and I...I can't justify his stand, but I can understand. I know that adjusting to loss is hard, and in your guys case, it's not something small. It's..."

_Life-changing._ He nearly finished for her.

"Halibel told me that it was your fate, but...it's not right."

Ulquiorra shifted on his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Don't try to discern right from wrong when there is no such question in the matter."

"What do you mean?" Her doe eyes turned back to him in confusion.

He shifted his gaze from her back to the less appealing stars. "Is there truly a right way to handle this situation?" He asked both her and himself. "Soul Reapers have hunted hollows for as long as time has run. If a Soul Reaper prevents a hollow from devouring the souls of the dead and the living, then to them it is considered good, correct? To a hollow, devouring a soul is considered an act of basic survival. In simplest terms, we consider being able to survive and grow from those souls 'good'. However, our growth is interpreted as 'bad' to the Soul Society and to the world of the living. Two parties in such a dilemma will try to destroy each other in a battle for their own survival. They cannot coexist in harmony. Either we kill them or they kill us."

"But...the hollows defeated by Soul Reapers are purified from the hollowification." She returned weakly. "Not killed."

"No, they are not. Instead, they are condemned to whatever fate that the Soul Society deems that they deserve." He echoed the young Soul Reaper's words from today. "That is in the case of simple hollows: of beasts. The Arrancar have different values from such beasts. We have been given our ability to think freely and survive with our greater intelligence. Even so, we are inherently the same 'evil' beasts because we are born from misery and thrive on more misery. By extinguishing such callous beings who are conscious of their capacity for evil, a Soul Reaper does what be or she considers 'good'."

"But that's not good in your case." She murmured.

He nodded slowly. "In the case of our binding to the Soul Society, there is no right or wrong because of such varying viewpoints. To them, there is no distinction between us and lower beasts. We are all essentially the same creatures fostered from negativity."

"But..." She tried to counter. Despite the pained look in her grey eyes, she stubbornly refused to accept his conjecture. "Not all hollows are evil."

His eyes drifted over to her in curiosity. "How would you know?"

She straightened her shoulders and faced him with that familiar penentrating gaze that he had believed was the last thing he would ever see.

"You are not evil."

Her words were barely above a whisper, similar to the time of his last moments, but they cut straight into him and left something permanent, and far more impactful than a mortal wound.

"I know it, Ulquiorra."

* * *

The apartment was dead quiet as Ulquiorra quietly stepped in from the still night. The blurry clock at the head of the hallway read in digital numbers, 1:49 a.m. His eyes fell half-lidded under the weight piled on from sleep deprivation. Hollows had biological clocks that were far more efficient than that of a human or a Shinigami, and even though he could generally run on a few hours of sleep, Ulquiorra hadn't felt such fatigue during his time in Las Noches or in Hueco Mundo in general.

He treaded across the living room to enter the kitchen for a glass of water. What he didn't expect to find was Grimmjow sitting at the far end of the table, holding a pack of frozen vegetables at the side of his head; Ulquiorra distinctly remembered him being smashed head first into a lamp post by Kurosaki. Instead of being greeted with the usual contemptuous glare, Ulquiorra was faced with something new and utterly unsuited for those proud, blue eyes: decadence.

"When the hell did shit get so fucked up, man?"

For once, Ulquiorra wished he had an answer for the absurd question.

* * *

A/N: **Finally got some Ulquihime interaction in there. Phew! Don't worry there's plenty more to come. While their relationship is at the center of this fic, there are other developmets that are going to be made between different characters. **

**Thank you for the reviews! It really makes me happy to get some feedback on my writing and how the story is progressing. Hopefully, things aren't all over the place...that last interaction between Orihime and Ulquiorra took some time to formulate. Please alert me of any OOCness.**

**Keep up your support! **


	4. Chapter 4: Sincerity

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 4: Sincerity

* * *

**This chapter took forever to write. This is what happens when I write when I'm sick. **

**Enjoy! Keep up the support! **

**A/N: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga**

* * *

Orihime hummed quietly as she clipped the tiny hairpins back in her smooth hair. She fiddled with the curling ends that reached down to her waist. Her hair had amazingly grown out even longer over the summer, and it's weight was starting to unleash a few sinewy waves. She smiled to herself as she twirled a lock in her fingers, captivated with how the light traced along the meandering strands. She was happy that she decided not to cut it. Though many people complimented that it was beautiful, a few wondered why she would put up with such a burdensome feature; the only answer she ever offered was a distant smile. To Orihime, her hair was more of a symbol of her inner being rather than external pulchritude. She kept it long in remembrance of Sora and in the name of hers and Tatsuki's friendship; sentiments that she would never sever from her heart.

Her fingers stopped their slow path down a shiny coppery strand, and she looked up to see herself reflected in the tall glass mirror. She had seen her same mirror image last night against similarly glassy green eyes.

It had already been late when Orihime decided that she needed to get some fresh air to recover from the overwhelming day, but she hadn't expected, nor meant, to stay out in the night for so long. Afterwards, she had been escorted home by Renji and Rukia, who were reluctant to let her walk by herself. It took some time, but at about midnight, she had finally managed to reassure them that she would be alright. It made her feel guilty for rushing them out after their efforts, but truthfully, she hadn't really wanted to see anyone after the violent incident in town. Just thinking about Grimmjow's outburst last night made her shiver; not out of fear, but pure heartbreak. Orihime hadn't realized the full extent of the Espadas' suffering until she had seen it on all of their faces: rage, betrayal, denial, pain...devastation. She had never thought that their individual powers could mean so much to them. Judging from the severity of Grimmjow's wounds (and Ichigo's...), he would have definitely fought to the death for his power; had he been awake after Orihime healed him, he probably would have kept fighting.

Orihime had noticed a similar rebellious blaze in the rest of their eyes. If things had gotten too out of hand, would they have fought as well?

As she lay awake in bed last night, she had come to the final conclusion that their power was what let them survive in Hueco Mundo; their power was what allowed them to regain their sense as rational beings; their power was what filled the void of emptiness after they lost their hearts.

Who wouldn't fight for something so precious?

After mulling over those depressing thoughts, not even she had the spirit to talk to anyone that night. Yet, she was relieved to see an equally spiritless Ulquiorra standing near the balcony, staring out at his new world. Talking to him had been surprisingly soothing. It felt good to let out the apology she had been holding back, and even better to have him reprimand her and set her straight on facts while subtly letting her know his own thoughts.

_I can always count on him to make me face harsh reality. _She thought with a sad smile.

It was a good thing she had gotten some closure from him, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to sleep with the guilt for the Espadas' struggle with the Soul Society. Her heartache for her and his comrades' situation was dispelled upon speaking with him and letting her restricted feelings finally flow free from her...

...only to let the rhythmic lullably of newly awakened feelings for him in her heart lay her to blissful rest.

_Something new..._She wondered silently.

So now extra feelings were being entangled with the already existent ones that she had for the ex-Espada. How much more could she have? Even though so much time had passed to fill in the gap between the present and her imprisonment in the Hollow World, vivid memories of her experience flooded into her vision each time she saw her jailor.

Memories so important that she couldn't use that term to describe what he was to her; but what was he to her? And what was she to him? Where would these unidentifiable feelings lead the two of them?

With one last glance in the mirror, Orihime slid her school bag over her shoulder and headed out the door to another routine day at school.

She hadn't expected her routine to be thrown off so abruptly: like a microwave being shot at bullet-speed straight through one of the apartment doors.

No, seriously.

Orihime let out a squeaking yelp as the appliance burst through the white wood and torpedoed off the balcony onto another unfortunate neighbor's car. Glass shattered and a car horn flared. In spite of the chaos, Orihime felt an odd sense of déjà vu: a blearing siren, a destroyed car, a busted down door...what was missing?

"DAMN PIECE OF CRAP!"

Ahh...there it is.

"Dammit Yammy..." A groggy voice complained.

"Hey!" A high pitched voice followed. "I was gonna warm up my toast!"

"You use a toaster for that." A smooth voice corrected.

"Crazy bastard broke that thing too." A harsh voice hissed.

"I couldn't work the shitty things!"

"Now they don't work at all." Concluded a monotonous female voice. "Your brilliance astounds me."

"It appears we need a new one."

"I don't think Ulqui wants to go shopping again..."

"I don't."

Orihime heaved out an exasperated sigh. The day hadn't even started and she was already feeling a headache coming on. With a deep breath, she bravely stepped over the dislodged door and lightly rapped on it's frame.

"Um...is everything okay?"

A short shuffling of footsteps echoed as Nel appeared at the door with a bright smile and open arms.

"Hime!" She beamed excitedly as she lifted Orihime in another warm, strong embrace. "Morning!"

"M...morning, Nel..." Orihime struggled to say with a smile. "H-how are you guys...?"

"Let her go, Neliel." Halibel instructed. "She needs to breathe."

Orihime gasped for dear air as Nel gently set her down with a sheepish giggle.

"Sorry. We're all fine." She assured as she led Orihime into the wreckage site of their kitchen: Nnoitra, Halibel, Yammy, and Starrk were seated at the table, while Ulquiorra and Lilynette stood against the counter. Nel bounced over to join their side at the counter.

"Don't worry about the big noise. Yammy just had a little accident." She explained with a chiding look towards the guilty party, who simply grumbled in defense.

"An accident...I see." Orihime said as she glanced over at the empty space near the fridge, and back at the doorway that was yet again doorless.

"Yeah, some freakin' accident." Lilynette glared at Yammy with her hands on her hips. Orihime had to admit, even with the platinum blond's spunky attitude, she looked adorable in a seashell pink dress that brought out the color of her eyes, both of which were visible without her mask in the way.

"I can't eat breakfast now!"

"Just take some cereal." Starrk groaned as he lay his head against the table.

"Hey." Nnoitra poked savagely at his head with a sharp fork. "Wake the fuck up! If we have to be up at this goddamned hour, then so do you, fuzzbuster."

As lethargic as he seemed, Starrk was lightning fast in ripping the fork from Nnoitra's hand.

"And I here I thought you had a fetish for other utensils?" He shot back with his sleepy-eyed glare.

Nnoitra bared his teeth. "Yeah, if we're talkin' knives-!"

"Enough." Ulquiorra's cold voice ripped through their ramblings and made them go dead silent. "I'm certain we're mature enough to sit through a meal without any childish quarreling. Or inappropriate misuse of kitchen appliances."

"You're hopes are too high." Lilynette mumbled with an annoyed pout. "I might as well eat the crumbs from Wonderwiess's breakfast."

"Oh." Orihime's eyes widened in surprise. "Wonderwiess is here too?"

As if just realizing that she was there, Lilynette shifted her light pink eyes over to Orihime, and pouted again. "Yeah, and guess who they designated as his babysitter?"

"Oh shut up, Lily." Yammy rolled his eyes. "How long're you gonna keep bitching about that?"

"You wanna try and keep him under tabs?!" She fumed and stomped her foot. Orihime noticed the slightest red that painted her cheeks. "I can't take care of him! He's... he's a boy! It's weird."

"I don't recall you finding it unmanageable or uncomfortable when you spend the majority of time with a man twice your age." Halibel arched a blond brow at her.

Lilynette huffed and blew the bangs out of her blushing face. "That's different..."

"Damn right it is." Starrk muttered as he pried his face off of the table. "Her idea of 'taking care' of me usually involves a quality amount of bloodshed."

"Sounds about right." Nnoitra let out a dry laugh. "Keep that in mind if you ever want to get 'taken care of' Pet-sama." He winked and snickered mockingly at Orihime. She shivered and instinctively shifted closer to Nel...

...who had bounded off to Lilynette's side, leaving Ulquiorra in her place. Of all people to notice her blushing as she inched away, it just _had _to be him.

"Don't worry, Lily." Nel reassured. "Mari and I can make pancakes again really quick."

"Ugh." Nnoitra gave a dirty look. "You mean those shitty flabs of flab? Last time, you were the only one who ate them."

"We simply misread the instructions." A calm voice informed. Orihime's eyes traveled over the pantry, where the voice came from. Out stepped Zommari with a spatula in one hand, a box of pancake mix in the other, and wearing...an apron?

She would have giggled had the atmosphere been any less uncomfortable. It didn't help that he looked so serious. Nel bounced over to him and latched onto his arm.

"Yeah, Mari and I'll make them nice this time!"

"The domestic garb suits you." Halibel said offhandedly.

"Fuckin' gross." Nnoitra scowled in disgust. "Where's your male pride, man?"

"Somewhere beneath my stomach." Zommari answered as he cracked eggs in a bowl.

"Don't be mean, Nnoi-Nnoi." Nel pouted as Nnoitra glared at her. "You have to do it, too."

"Did you forget, Nnoi-Nnoi?" Yammy asked with a mocking sneer. "It's your turn to be kitchen bitch tomorrow."

"Like hell!" The towering man said in outrage "I'll kill you if you shove me in here like some housewife. I might as well knock myself out and get out of it like Grimm."

"Hey." Lilynette narrowed her eyes in an angry glare. "Don't joke about that. Especially when Grimm's out."

"It wasn't a joke." He muttered back, suddenly somber. "That bastard never knows when to keep his mouth shut and he never does. Why the hell should I?"

Silence settled over the boisterous group at the mention of...you know who. A knot formed in Orihime's chest upon remembering the angry Espada's words, and the terrible burns and lacerations she had to heal from both him and Ichigo after their fight. She looked around at each Espada, surprised and disheartened to find melancholy lurking in all of their eyes, even Nnoitra's.

"Um...w-where is-?"

"At Urahara's to fix the damage to his gigai." Ulquiorra answered. "Aaronierro and Szayel accompanied him."

"His gigai?" She asked in confusion. "But I healed him and Ichigo. What happened?"

Shadows passed over him and the rest of the Espada. "A different kind of damage that only Urahara can fix."

"Oh...well then, where-?"

He let out a tired sigh. "Baraggan is back at the Soul Society with Captain Yamamoto, and Wonderwiess is still asleep. Does that satisfy your curiosity?" He trailed his cold emerald eyes over to her.

"Y-yes actually..." She answered awkwardly. "Thank you."

With that conclusive exchange, no more words were spoken for a while. Not even Lilynette made a final sassy remark as she stormed out of the kitchen. All was unnervingly quiet...until, Starrk took a sip the coffee that was handed to him.

"Ugh " He made a face at the steaming drink. "Oh come on Nel." He complained.

Ulquiorra cautiously took a sip from his own before settling in on the counter. "Too sweet." He said with a slight frown.

"But it tastes so gross without the sugar!" She pouted. "Not my fault you guys like it dark and bitter."

"Hey, that's how we like Bel-Bel here." Nnoitra shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. Even though he effortlessly deflected it with his wrist, Orihime cringed as the fork whisked above his head and pierced the wooden cabinet.

"Nice aim." He glared at Halibel. "You got some secret fetish for tossin' around dangerous kitchen utensils, babe?"

"Wouldn't that give you the time of day, spoony." Starrk muttered as he pushed himself out of the chair, and as Yammy restrained an angry Nnoitra. "Let's just get some coffee at school, Ul."

Orihime gasped as she realized the time. "School! I'm going to be late! I have to go!"

"Wait!" Nel followed her as she hustled out the kitchen door. "You won't make it in time if you walk. Take another ride with Ulqui and Starrk."

"Oh...I couldn't, I-"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ulquiorra said as he stepped through the kitchen door. "Nel is right. Unless you want to serve punishment for tardiness, I suggest you accompany us."

"Soundin' pretty assertive, Ul." Yammy smirked. "You want her to come with you that badly?"

Orihime flushed at his insinuation, but before she could babble some weak excuse, her eyes were captured yet again in a green haze.

"It's your choice, woman."

Orihime sighed defeatedly. How did he expect her to disagree with those eyes putting her under the spotlight?

"Okay then..." She mumbled, feeling absurdly embarrassed.

"I don't care so long as I don't have to drive." Starrk said with a yawn.

"I wanna go too!" Nel jumped over to Orihime's side. "We can see Ichigo and everyone else, right?"

"You have to stay, Nel." Ulquiorra said as he calmly unlatched her from Orihime.

"Aww, but why?"

"Because, Grimm and the rest are gone, we have keep as many people as we can at posts." Starrk informed. "Grimm probably won't be allowed to fight for a few days, so we need temporary partner changes. You'll be with Tia."

Nel smiled and happily hugged an undaunted Halibel.

"Okay!"

"So our whole partner system has been rearranged?" Zommari asked as he beat the breakfast mix in a glass bowl.

"Temporarily, yes. The chosen partnerships are final according to Baraggan." Starrk informed as he lifted his gleaming grey-blue eyes up to all of them.

"Up until Grimmjow recovers and is allowed to fight alongside us again." He said in an almost gentle voice.

For someone so lazy, the serious light in his eyes made him look like a real leader: like someone who could be the Primera Espada. There was also something else tucked underneath the indifference that Orihime picked up on. Something...softer.

"Yammy will work with Baraggan when he gets back." He continued nonchalantly. "Zommari, you'll be working with MC Silverware over there. Get to your posts soon."

He narrowly avoided the flying knife and it's angry thrower as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

The ride to school was fairly quiet, but awkward. Orihime felt so uncomfortable for the entirety of therive, despite the gorgeous interior of the car. She covered her blushing face with her hands as she thought back to the short exchange of words she had started with her innocent question.

_"So the Soul Society bought this for you?" She inquired as she ran her hands over the smooth, glossy black surface. The interior leather was just as nice to the touch. Despite them acquiring the vehicle nearly a month ago, the inside still had that 'new-car' smell. _

_"Kinda." Starrk mumbled as he lay sprawled in the back seat. "They gave us the money." _

_Ulquiorra was in the driver's seat, concentrated on the street in front of them. For a man who didn't have much experience with human motor vehicles (at least, Orihime assumed he didn't), he was already a better driver than her and her friends. _

_"Nnoitra and Grimmjow insisted on this model." He said dispassionately. Orihime had to smile at that. If the though of Ulquiorra driving had ever crossed her mind, she could picture no car more perfect for him than a Murcielago. _

_"We have four cars: one for me, Halibel, Baraggan, and Szayel." _

_"I guess you all can't each have a car for yourself..." Orihime let out an uneasy laugh._

_"Yammy and Nnoitra are too huge." Starrk muttered. "Grimmjow's too out of control. Aaronierro has no interest..."_

_"And you don't go anywhere." Ulquiorra finished._

_"Pfft." He waved his hand dismissively. "It's too bothersome, Ul. I don't have the energy to manage these machines."_

_"Or to refer to me by my full name." _

_"Don't get all pissy." Starrk propped himself on his elbows. "Your name is too long and hard to pronounce anyway. Shoulda kept it monosyllabic, man." _

_"The other Espada call you that too." Orihime noted. "I don't really remember that from Las Noches." _

_They both seemed surprised at how easily she mentioned her former place of imprisonment. _

_"Not until recently." Starrk answered. _

_Still silent, Ulquiorra flipped the black bangs out of his eyes. Orihime had always thought that his hair looked nice longish and messy. Having it shorter and messier, with bangs that reached his intense eyes, actually made him look younger. Physically, he really only looked a couple of years older than Orihime, but his demeanor was like that of an older man. Or a statue. Seeing him in almost punkish-style clothing, with his shorter hair in captivating disarray, was actually quite refreshing. _

_And kind of cute..._

_"I'd bump my preferences up to disyllabic, but I don't think you'd appreciate Nel's special nickname for you becoming the norm." Starrk said. _

_Ulquiorra remained straight-faced, but his hands tightened around the wheel. "I just prefer my actual name. Not some irritating contraction of it."_

_"Then..." Orihime knit her brows in confusion. "Why did you ask my classmates to call you by...er, you know."_

_"I don't have the patience to hear them butcher my name with their inability to pronounce it." _

_"So either way, it doesn't matter." Starrk grunted as he sat up and eased back in the his seat._

_"It doesn't sound bad, you know." Orihime mumbled as she fiddled with the seat buckle. She blushed as they both darted their eyes to her. Starrk had a single brow arched in slight intrigue and Ulquiorra..._

_"I actually think it sorta cute..." _

_The rest of the ride was silent as Ulquiorra drove and Orihime tried her best to turn invisible. She didn't fail to notice Starrk's sleepy eyes on her; that soft light was there again, dimly sparkling in amusement. _

"Why did I even say that?" She mumbled in embarrassment. Tatsuki turned around with a curious expression. Orihime forgot that she had been sitting in the desk in front of her, and waiting for class to start.

"Said what?" She asked with a arched brow.

"Oh n-nothing!" Orihime waved her hands and gave an unconvincing laugh. "It's nothing Tatsuki."

"I wonder how long it'll take you to realize that I never believe you when you say that?" Tatsuki gave her a serious look. "Spill it, Princess."

"It's nothing serious." Orihime assured with a weak smile. "I'm just being silly."

"Ichigo told me what happened yesterday." Tatsuki said gently. "Was everything okay afterward? They didn't give you a hard time?"

Orihime shook her head. "No, actually. They all seemed fine this morning."

"You actually talked to them?" Tatsuki gave her an incredulous look. "And you made it out with all of your limbs?"

"They're really not that bad." Orihime insisted defensively. "They're going through a lot right now, and they've been surprisingly patient. Grimmjow just kind of...burst yesterday. I can't blame him."

Tatsuki blinked at the vehemence in her normally mellow voice, and at the ardent light in her grey eyes. "How would you know?"

"I've talked with them." Orihime said softly. "Even if I can't completely relate to their problems, I just...I feel for them."

"Only you would." Tatsuki murmured so quietly that the class bell nearly drowned her out. Students seated themselves immediately as their sensei and class aid entered the room. Starrk trailed over to his desk with a stack of papers, while Ulquiorra headed to sit near the window. Unsurprisingly, they both had coffee cups.

_I wonder if they'll become caffeine junkies..._

Class commenced with Starrk's introduction to the English text they would be reading. Orihime always wondered how the Espada were able to speak Japanese; now she was baffled to see Starrk speaking fluent English. The first day of their new sensei's class was a shock to the whole Soul Reaper gang: they certainly hadn't expected the laziest Espada (or any Arrancar for that matter) to be a capable high school teacher. Nel mentioned that Baraggan put Starrk through some kind of 'quick' learning program to get a teaching license in a myriad of educational fields. It seemed humanly (in this case, hollowly?) impossible, but the man was levels above even the top professors here! Perhaps they had some type of Rosetta Stone function as a part of Arrancar power?

Her eyes glanced over to Ulquiorra, but he wasn't paying attention, only staring intently out the window. If anything, he seemed to fit the teacher role better, considering how intelligent he was. Then again, Orihime could easily recall that several teachers had come running to Starrk for help with _their_ respective studies. It kind of made her feel sympathy for her Soul Reaper friends, who were known for having the lowest scores in the school...

About halfway through the text, a small beep sounded from across the room. Without even looking up, Orihime knew that Ulquiorra was heading out the door.

"Is that some kind of signal for hollows?" Tatsuki whispered.

"Yeah." Orihime replied. "Only in this area. The other Espada are further out in the city."

The sound of door sliding stopped abruptly. Orihime glanced up to see Ulquiorra turn back around to face the class. Had he forgotten something? Starrk must have been wondering the same thing, since he looked over at him with lips parted for a question.

All of the words that could have been said fell silent as those green, slitted eyes fell on a single blur of orange at the front of the line of a desks. Orihime's breath hitched.

"Come with me for a second, Kurosaki."

The icy breath of danger prickled against Orihime's neck as Ulquiorra walked over to Ichigo's desk. The room dropped to arctic temperatures as Ichigo's scowl leveled up to Ulquiorra's expressionless glare.

"I'm in the middle of class." Came the cold reply. "Or didn't you notice?"

"Don't test my patience."

"I'd advise the same thing."

Now they were both standing and glaring at each other. Every eye on class was on them, waiting anxiously for what was to come. The pit of Orihime's stomach lurched at the present threat of another fight. Even Starrk looked mildly guarded.

"What do you even want?" Ichigo crossed his arms, not ceasing his cold glare.

Undaunted, Ulquiorra simply flipped the bangs out of his eyes and answered, "To finish our discussion from yesterday. You remember, don't you?"

Everyone's flicked back and forth between the two of them, and none of them missed how Ichigo considerably paled at the last few words.

_Discussion? _

Orihime looked around to the Soul Reapers in their seats, but even they looked clueless.

"I don't think now's the best time." He said with a little strain. "So just-ju- h-hey?! HEY!"

The terrifying tension of their confrontation completely disintegrated as Ichigo was effortlessly flung over Ulquiorra's shoulder

"What the hell're you doing?!"

The whole scene came in such a shock, with Ichigo yelling and struggling in futile attempts to escape Ulquiorra's grasp, that no one could react, and he was effortlessly hauled out of class.

"PUT ME DOWN!" Echoed from the outside hall.

Now all eyes, including sleepy blue ones, gaped at the closed door. The only noise came from Keigo, and, for once, his words corresponded with what everyone was thinking.

"What the hell just happened...?"

* * *

"Oof!"

Ichigo glared up at his kidnapper from the concrete he had just been unceremoniously dropped onto. Ulquiorra just stared down with that unflappable indifference that pissed Ichigo off to no end.

"What was that for?" Ichigo snarled as he stood from the ground, feeling completely outraged, humiliated, and sore. Really sore. Ulquiorra's grip was tight enough to compress bones: literally. Even if Ichigo trumped him with power, Ulquiorra was undeniably physically stronger than him.

"I ran out of patience." Ulquiorra answered impassively.

"You know," Ichigo grunted as he rolled his shoulder. "For a guy who doesn't look like he ever gives a crap, you really have a deficiency in that category."

An awkward silence followed those last terse words. Well, it was awkward for Ichigo anyway. He shot an irritated glance at the Espada, but no dice. What the hell? The guy took the liberty to carry Ichigo out of the like he was a sack of potatoes; drop him on the street corner outside the school grounds, like he was a sack of potatoes; and now he was completely ignoring him.

...like he was a sack of potatoes.

Ichigo could have snapped on him, but he wasn't eager for the conversation that was bound to ensue afterward. He inwardly rolled his eyes. The guy was actually serious about getting an answer for their little tangent yesterday. Even after the fight with Grimmjow, Ulquiorra's words reverberated in his head like the haunting echoes of a ghost. No matter how much he reflected on his response, Ichigo couldn't find any justification that would satisfy the Espada. Still, the silence wasn't any more preferable.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I still don't have an answer for you." He finally muttered out. He glanced over at Ulquiorra for any reaction, but there was none on the hollow's face.

"I didn't expect you to."

"Yet, here we are thanks to you." Ichigo muttered in annoyance.

No reaction. Now it felt like _he _was talking to a sack of...

"So, I'm guessing your shoulder's all fixed up." He eventually murmured, the slightest pang of guilt struck him in his chest. The attacks from his blind rage had reached several unintended targets, including his own friends.

"It's healed." Ulquiorra replied, still not making eye-contact.

"Orihime...?"

"Yes."

Ichigo's shoulders stiffened at the confirmation. "She rode with you guys again this morning?"

"Correct."

"I forgot what an engaging conversationalist you were." Ichigo muttered, rolling his eyes for real this time.

"I don't see that there's anything else to say on the matter. She would have been tardy otherwise."

"Hmm..." Ichigo rolled his eyes again, but accepted the explanation. "I don't recall you ever being so generous, especially towards her."

"Does it bother you?" The question came out almost sincere-sounding.

"Take a guess." Ichigo scowled at him.

Of course it bothered him. In fact, it freaking infuriated him that the Soul Society decided to appoint the girl who had suffered quite possibly the worst kind of damage from the Arrancar to be their mediator. The moment they had heard the news of the Espadas' new residence, Ichigo, Chad, and Ishida immediately protested the idea to protect their friend, but their word was nothing against the final decision of the Gotei 13. Orihime had taken the news surprisingly well, and accepted her responsibility over her new neighbors. She even took the news with a forced smile, claiming that all would be fine if she could talk with them. Ishida had his theories about psychological denial and reaction formation, but they all knew how much resilience Orihime had underneath her sweet demeanor. Not much could truly bring her down. Even after the violence that erupted yesterday, she dutifully healed both Ichigo and Grimmjow as soon as they had been knocked out.

The only thing that bothered Ichigo was the look of fear that flashed in her pretty gray eyes when she saw him fighting. After his last fight with Grimmjow in Hueco Mundo, he had vowed to never make her or any other of his loved ones fear him like that again.

_And yesterday was great progress for that goal, right? _

"I despise it, actually." Ichigo continued mercilessly. "I can't trust any of you with her. I refuse to. If I suspect that any of you are planning to do anything terrible to her, or anyone, I have no problem in taking all of you on."

Niether of them had noticed how air had chilled or how dark the skies had gotten. The chalky clouds had been shaded a soft gray that eclipsed the radiance of the sun and let darkness rain over them. Even the gleam in Ichigo's light eyes had been clouded by contempt.

"Especially you, Ulquiorra. Our fight was never finished. If you try anything to hurt my comrades, I'll bring back the nightmare from the canopy of Las Noches."

That finally forced his dead, jade eyes to meet Ichigo's blazing, amber ones. Ichigo clenched his jaw at Ulquiorra's unaffected expression.

"You mean your nightmare?" He countered coldly.

"Shouldn't you be taking out hollows in this area?" Ichigo looked around impatiently, trying to find any excuse to let him leave. "I don't see or sense any."

"Because they're not around. That notification was from Nel."

"Then why the hell did you even leave class?!"

"Why else?" He drifted his empty gaze over to Ichigo. "I told you wanted to speak with you privately."

"Well, are you satisfied now?" Ichigo retorted. What the hell was he even doing out here? All this little chat did was piss him off even more. Was that what the pale bastard's goal was all along? Congratulations to him.

"If this isn't going anywhere, I'm going back to-"

"I'm sorry."

As if someone had just impaled a hole in his heart, Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks.

_Excuse me...?_

"Excuse me...?" He asked in utter disbelief. Ichigo whipped around to see Ulquiorra, still standing on the sidewalk, and now leaning against the brick wall on front of the school. His eyes refused to meet Ichigo's, but he continued to speak.

"In regard to the incident yesterday with Grimmjow, I apologize on behalf of him and the rest of the Espada who killed any hollows without authorization."

As he spoke, the words came out clear, concise, calm. And forced. The tension was visible in his shoulders and face. His tone was so destitute that the words whisped out and flowed like dust in the wind.

"If you're still not convinced, then I can't change your mind, because I won't say it again." He continued quietly. "I can only tell you that I am being sincere."

"Why would you apologize to me...?" Ichigo asked with a distrusting tone. All anger had been melted away, and all that was left was bare astonishment.

Ulquiorra stared off at the swirling expanse of clouds swimming above them.

"I normally think that they're empty gestures, but someone managed to convince me that they're a necessity in certain situations. If we are to expect a pardon from the Soul Society, an apology is the first step. Right?"

"A pardon? For Grimmjow?"

"Yes."

"Why not apologize to the Soul Society then?" Ichigo asked with a furrowed brow.

"Baraggan is already working on it."

"Then why drag me out here?" Ichigo asked again impatiently. "What do you plan to accomplish by saying you're sorry to _me? _There's no need. What are you trying to pull?"

When had he started to sound like such a jerk?

Ulquiorra slipped his hands in his pockets. "Don't you call it common human decency?"

"Yeah, but you're not-" Ichigo caught his words before they could tumble out. He nearly covered his mouth in shock at his own tactlessness. Granted, he was speaking to his former enemy, but some things were just too harsh to say. He hesitantly looked over at Ulquiorra, but his expression was like a blank canvas.

"Not human." He finished for him. "Not anymore, anyway. I'm well aware of that fact."

Ichigo scowled to himself and flicked his eyes away.

_Way to set the mood, Kurosaki._

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Look, I'm not...I'm not mad about the whole thing from yesterday. It was my fault, too. I lost my temper."

"So did Grimmjow."

"Yeah, but..." Ichigo trailed off awkwardly. Damn it, he couldn't find it in him to be mad anymore. What did the guy want from him? It's not like he could go back in time and stop himself from blowing a fuse. The more he thought back to Grimmjow's outrage, the more Ichigo heard and really understood his message: _what more do you want to take from us? _

_He_ hadn't taken anything from them. He hadn't wanted anything to do with them after the war. He wanted those painful memories to fade away upon defeating them, so that he and his loved ones could move on. He had not wanted any of this to happen. The more Ichigo thought about it, the more he realized that the Espada had wanted the same thing...

...and that he really was the same as them.

"I'm the one who pushed him." He finished lamely. "So..."

Looking into those confused, blank eyes was Ichigo's undoing.

"_I'm_ sorry."

What the hell just happened? How had the conversation just done a complete one-eighty? Even Ulquiorra looked faintly surprised.

"I'll never understand how you humans can just give such apologies away so easily." He murmured.

"Don't you call it common human decency? I'm being sincere." Ichigo echoed his words.

There came that perplexing silence again. Ichigo let out a soundless sigh. How was it that the most unfeeling person he had ever met just put him through an entire emotional torrent? He looked over again at his still aloof companion. Sure he definitely _looked _different from his time in Hueco Mundo, but this whole exhange made him _seem_ different. It would have been easier to believe that Rukia and Toshiro would get boosts in height, rather than that Ulquiorra Cifer would offer him a genuine apology.

What had he gone through to have changed so much?

"Hey." Ichigo said through the thick silence.

"What is it?"

"You said that someone convinced you that apologies are necessary for some things." Ichigo lifted his head up to meet that same blank face of Ulquiorra's. "Who was that?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"I guess not." He mumbled. "I honestly just didn't expect that someone like you would go through with it."

"You mean a beast?"

Silence.

"Contrary to popular belief..." He began, but trailed off.

"What?"

He didn't answer at first. The only response Ichigo received was the same emotionless stare, until Ulquiorra drifted his gaze up to the miniscule cracks of sunlight that smiled down from behind the dark sheet of clouds.

"Not all hollows are evil."

* * *

Orihime sighed as the drizzling rain dripped onto her as she walked home. She had forgotten to check the weather forecast for today, so she didn't even think to grab an umbrella on the way out from her house. The moment the first few drops tickled her skin, she knew she'd be drenched as soon as she got home. Luckily it was only a light rain as of now. She hoped her friends had gotten home safely, for the sudden precipitation seemed to have come out of no where.

She looked up at the weeping gray sky, smiling as its tears plopped against her cheeks. She had always likened the rain to be a sort of emotional current. Raindrops touched the hearts of everyone, and penetrated deep into them. The rain's sad waterworks always seemed depressing at first, but the sun always shined after such an emotional release. Everyone needed a little rain to purge themselves of melancholy.

Orihime vaguely wondered if it had ever rained in Hueco Mundo. Had the hollows who hunted in the rain ever felt the emotion behind its tears? Had the Espada ever felt it?

Had he?

Her thoughts stopped short as she felt something warm drape her shoulders. She spun around and yelped as she saw a now jacketless Ulquiorra standing just inches from her. Unlike Orihime, he looked straight-faced as ever.

"Oh my gosh! Where did you come from?"

Stoic as always, he slipped his hands in his pockets and gave a straightforward reply.

"I've been walking this way for some time now."

"Wow." She looked around before settling her wide, astonished eyes on him. "I didn't even hear you. This rain really is getting kinda heavy."

"And yet here you are walking out in the middle of it like a fool." He said.

_But you're doing the same thing, Ulquiorra. _

"I forgot my umbrella..." She mumbled with a slight pout. As she adjusted her bag, she felt his black jacket slip around her shoulders. Then her eyes traveled back up to see him getting more soaked as they stood out in the open. Guilt struck her like lightning: he was only in jeans and a thin, blue V-neck.

"Y-you really should take this back." She said worriedly. "You're getting all wet."

"So are you."

"Well, yes...but-"

"The longer we stand out here, the worse chances are that _you_ will get sick. I suggest you walk."

She sighed softly. There was just no winning against him and his well-masked commands. She adjusted the warm cloth on her shoulders as they walked together in the soft showers.

"Thank you." She murmured as an afterthought.

For a while, they walked side by side under the thick sheets of rain clouds. Orihime snuck occasional glances at him, but he just kept staring at the path in front of them, completely undaunted by the pouring rain. It still made Orihime feel bad to see raindrops cling to the ends of his hair and run down in lines on his arms and face, especially in line with already present teal tear marks. The sight tracked her back to earlier thoughts.

_Do you feel anything in the rain?_

"Why aren't you driving with Starrk?" She asked.

"He'll be staying after school for some extra work." He replied coolly.

"_Extra_ work?" She inquired curiously. "For Starrk...?"

"It confuses me, as well."

"So why didn't you take the car?"

"I'm not accustomed to driving out in the rain."

"Tell me the real reason." She prodded. Orihime could hear something in his monotonous voice that meekly called out for her to listen. The look in his normally apathetic eyes seemed distant and...affected by something.

"What happened with Ichigo?" She asked tentatively.

His frigid, green eyes drifted down to her with an intensity that could have melted someone. Unfazed, she stuck her chin up at him defiantly, waiting for him to reply. After their brief stare down, he let out a small breath and let his shoulders slowly fall.

_I win! _

"Nothing particularly significant." He answered. "We simply straightened things out."

"So you said sorry?" She asked with a triumphant smile.

"...essentially." He eventually muttered out.

Orihime smiled to herself, releshing at the reluctance in his voice. She had only suggested for him to consider it last night. It made her happy to know that he actually took her advice to...well, you know.

"Wipe that grin off your face." He muttered.

"I can't." Her smile brightened. "I'm victorious this time."

"I'd hardly call a woman who lacks the sense to bring her own umbrella in the event of rainfall 'victorious'."

"Mm-hm. And yet here _you_ are walking out in the middle of it like a-"

"Watch it, woman." He cautioned.

Orihime let out a soft giggle. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"You never can, can you?"

"Hey." She pouted up at him. "Why do you have to be so cold?"

"Because I don't have a jacket."

"Sorry." She said with a sheepish smile. "I'll give it back if you want."

"It doesn't matter to me." He explained dispassionately.

"Me niether." Orihime let out a wistful sigh as the drops gently sprinkled over her. "I love the rain."

She could feel his eyes on her as she lifted her gaze up to the pregnant clouds. For a while, he seemed to mull over her words while she patiently waited for him to respond.

"How do you 'love' something that isn't alive?"

Orihime had to smile at the question. So simple, yet absolutely thought provoking. A question that forced one to look to the center of their being for what they deemed was their correct answer.

_Only you would ask something like that, Ulquiorra. _

"Maybe it's just me," She began. "But I find the rain to be something that holds life. It brings life to the plants and trees, water for animals and humans, and homes for sea creatures. It affects everyone. There's something about rain that makes people feel depressed, but I feel like that's because of all of the emotion it holds. It touches every person at one point in life, and that links them to the rest of the people on earth."

Orihime let out shaky breath as she finished and touched her heart. It was beating fast. Never had she ever expressed such a sentiment to someone else, not even to Tatsuki. She looked over at Ulquiorra to find his eyes still on her, and to find her reflected in the field of emeralds again.

"It's only rain." He said barely above a whisper.

She could see her smile reflected back at her.

"There's always more than meets the eye."

_Whatever your eye sees is only the external image. Just because you can't actually see certain things, that doesn't mean they don't exist. I've been wanting to say that to you for so long, Ulquiorra. Do you understand me? _

Niether of them had really noticed that they had reached the apartment complex, climbed the stairs, and walked across the balconies to their respective doors. Ulquiorra was utterly drenched, and Orihime's hair shone with evidence of the downpour.

"H-here you go." She smiled shyly as she handed his jacket back. "Thank you f-for letting me borrow it, and I'm sorry if it's wet. I probably should have put the hood up so that my hair didn't soak it, but I'm so careless..."

Her voice trailed off as she felt him lift up wet locks of her titian hair in his fingers. Water from the soaked strands trailed down his fingers to the center of his palm. Still passionless, his eyes traced over the the warm light the glimmered from the watery strands. Orihime followed his line of vision, finding herself captivated with her own hair again: this time, she observed how the deep orange spilled onto his pale hands like a melting sunset on white sand.

"It grew out longer." He said quietly.

"Yeah." She breathed out.

_It represents the bonds that I've made with people. I keep it long in the name of our relationships. _

Before she knew it, she herself reached out to touch his hair. Water from the soaked locks wet her fingertips as she traced her hand behind his ear. He let her.

"Yours did the opposite."

She ran her fingers through his thick, wet locks, so glossy black, she half expected her hand to be ink-stained from the touch.

_Hey Ulquiorra. Do you want to know why I love the rain so much?_

Their eyes fell upon each other again, and Orihime could see herself in him. Could he see himself in her?

_It connects our hearts._

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Thank goodness I got that written out. This chapter took a lot of thought. Especially for the conversation betwwen Ichigo and Ulquiorra. Honestly writing from Ichigo's perspective is the hardest for me. He's such a dynamic character.**

**Ichigo: You made me look like a prick!**

**Me: Then stop being so confusing!**

**Grimmjow: Why the hell am I not in this chapter?!**

**Me: Relax. You'll be in the next one and you're going to meet your love interest sooner or later.**

**Grimmjow: My what?**

**Byeeeeee! Please rate and review! **


	5. Chapter 5: Divulgence

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 5: Divulgence

* * *

**Disclaimer : I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

Pink clouds were scribbled into the orange skies like messy cotton puffs. Nel admired how the colors of the sky morphed like pools of paint being mixed together. Darker colors followed as the sun was swallowed by the expansive horizon. The last crack of light winked goodbye before letting the glittery night spill into the sky.

"Bye bye." She whispered with a smile.

She was enjoying the moment up until she felt her feet being lifted off of the ground. Actually, she wouldn't have minded it if she hadn't been in the presence of annoyed, slanted eyes.

"Wha-Hey." Nel looked over at Nnoitra, who was hanger her up in midair by her arm. "What's up?"

"You've been starin' at the damn sky for ages. The patrol hours are over." He shook her in annoyance. "Been tryna tell ya for forever, stupid woman."

"Oh, come on." Nel pouted and fisted her free hand on her hip. "You don't have to be so mean, Nnoi-Nnoi. Wah!"

"Stop freaking callin' me that." He growled as he let her drop to the ground. "My name is Nnoitra."

"Okay, okay." Nel rolled her eyes as she stood up from the dirt. "Don't get your antennae in a bunch, Mantis-san. Better?"

"I'm warning you!" He pointed down as he towered over her.

"That's enough."

Both of their heads snapped over to Halibel's firm command. Nel stuck her tongue out at Nnoitra before she bounded off to stand at her partner's side.

"Tch." Nnoitra rested his huge weapon on his shoulder. "Whatever. Are we gonna leave or what?"

Halibel tucked a few long strands of blond hair behind her ear before answering. "Soon. Aaroniero and Szayel are clearing out leftover Menos in their inner city area."

"Shouldn't we go help them?" Nel glanced at both of her comrades for a response.

"We aren't allowed to enter each other's boundaries." Halibel replied.

"Then why is he here?" Nel pointed to their scowling giant of a brother.

Halibel looked up at Nnoitra with indifference.

"Some don't take the rules very seriously."

"Please." Nnoitra rolled his eyes as he blew a few short strands of black hair out of his eyes...or _eye_, actually.

"What's the worst those Soul Reaper bitches can do to us? They can't exactly 'punish' me for coming to help out over here."

"If by 'help out' you mean intervene for the sake of relieving yourself of boredom." Halibel said as she crossed her arms.

"You know me so well, Bel-Bel." He snickered with that mocking grin.

"Hey." Nel frowned up at Nnoitra. "How come you get to make up nicknames, but I can't?"

"I would prefer that we all refer to each other by our proper full names." Halibel pointed out sullenly.

"But nicknames are fun!" Nel insisted with a smile. "Like, I'm actually Neliel, but it's better to call me Nel, and Bel-Bel is better for you."

Before Halibel could offer any protest, Nel gasped.

"Oh my gosh, they rhyme!" She jumped up excitedly. "We can be Nel &amp; Bel-Bel. Ooh! Or just Nel&amp;Bel! Right?"

Halibel glared over to the side to quiet Nnoitra's mock-gagging. She turned her marine green eyes over to Nel's large hazel ones and let out a tired sigh.

She was barely done with her "Do as you wish," before Nel was hugging her.

"Yay!"

"You're attitude is fucking deplorable for an Espada, Neliel." Nnoitra with his lip curling in disgust.

Halibel's cold eyes glared up at him.

"You have no right to say such a thing to her."

"I can say whatever I damned want." He said menacingly as he leaned over to stare down at both women. "Call it constructive criticism from a colleague."

"Can you call yourself a 'colleague'?" Halibel said in a low, threatening voice. "I'd hardly call a pathetic, chauvinist who betrayed his comrade to reach such a high rank a 'colleague' of mine."

The glare from those beady, serpent eyes of Nnoitra's flashed like thunder behind storm clouds.

"What did you say?" His voice came out as harsh as hissing steel.

"You heard me." Halibel said with unmasked hatred. "You're the reason she has lost her memories and her title. What has happened to her is your doing."

"Don't tell me what I already know, bitch." He growled. "But why should you care? You got her fuckin' spot. Shouldn't you be kissing my feet? Huh, woman?"

Those words were reason enough for Halibel to let all of her rage loose and shower death upon a willing Nnoitra; but a few other words were enough to stop her from doing so.

"Oh yeah."

Both of them turned their attention to the soft voice of the former Tercera Espada. Neliel wasn't paying attention to them anymore, but instead was staring back up at the dark night sky. The sky here in the human world was a darkish blue in contrast to Hueco Mundo's pitch black. Even so, the smiling crescent from above took her back to the sandy plains of the desert terrain, where she, Pesche, Dondochakka, and Bawawawa would hunt together, fight together, and play together. Nel hugged her frame, trying to remember her former fracciónes's sweet embraces from when she was stuck in child form. She missed them dearly, but they were back in Hueco Mundo. They had been by her side through her time as a a prideful, powerful Espada and her time as a playful little outcast of a hollow; now that she was here in this human world, she was stuck in an awkward mix between the two personas, and without her friends. Looking back at her days in Hueco Mundo, it was impossible for her to deny that she felt incomplete in this world and confused as to how to truly deal with the situation.

"I actually can remember most things from that time, but the memories are just...there." She spoke softly to herself. "Like, I don't know what to do with them. I see myself with Pesche, Dondochakka, and Bawawawa, and everything else. I see myself playing. I see myself training. I see myself fighting. I see myself with the rest of you."

Nel's drabbles were stalled for a moment as she leveled her gaze back down to her comrades.

"All of those memories are kinda stuck there, and it's hard for me to really make something of them. Even so, I...I wanna be able to. I want to find meaning in them so that they can matter. I wish I could go back, but I know we have to stay here, and that's fine. I'm trying to make the best of it here, but..."

She figured Nnoitra and Halibel knew what she was going to say based on their quietness and sudden grim set of their features.

"It's not the same as being there." She finished softly.

A moment of silence passed by before Halibel crossed her arms and spoke quietly.

"It sounds like you're homesick."

Was that it?

"I think..." She said as she bit her thumb. "Maybe that's what Grimmy feels."

Her comrades were still silent, but a subtly somber miasma spread through the air at the mention of their brother. Naturally, he had healed thanks to Orihime's power, but a different kind of wound was left on him. His fighting privileges had been stripped from him, as well as his zanpakuto. Restricting his release form was bad enough, but taking away his zanpakuto as a whole was too much. Nel felt even worse to see him unwillingly hand it over to the Soul Society. The normal pride and indignation in his royal blue eyes had faded to something dismal and empty as his sword fell from his hand to the collector from the Soul Society.

All because he wanted to stand for something that was rightfully his. Even if Nel didn't agree with him hurting Ichigo and his friends, she completely understood her brother's reason to fight. She would do the same for Gamuza.

"That bastard's not homesick." Nnoitra muttered acerbicly.

Surprised, Nel turned her sad, hazel gaze over to him

"Then what?"

Nnoitra glared at her for a while before settling his dark, stormy gray eyes on the black night.

"He was freaking askin' for it." He explained unabashedly. "All he had to was refuse to give up his release and just fight as usual. He just had to go and freakin' lose his shit."

"But..." Nel furrowed her brow in confusion at Nnoitra's response. "I thought you would have felt the same way, Nnoi-Nnoi?"

He didn't call her out on the nickname this time, but instead settled his attention on the glare of Santa Teresa's converged, curved blades.

"It's fuckin' stupid and insulting to have those puny Shinigami twigs finish our battles for us, but it's not worth losing our power over."

Nel and Halibel eyed him carefully. The normal elastic, grisly grin was absent from the Quinta Espada's face, and was replaced by something pensive. Nel noticed that his grip on Santa Teresa was even tighter, and that his other fist was clenched.

"I may not be able to fully enjoy battle with these Menos 'cause I can't finish 'em off, but I'd choose that over losing my ability to fight at all." He concluded in a voice that was uncharacteristicly soft in comparison to its normal gruffness.

"That's all we got now."

Nel nodded her head slowly. A few more memories surfaced from her subconscious: memories of a violent, mindless, bloodthirsty Nnoitra ravaging through Hueco Mundo in search of battle for whatever reason she at the time couldn't understand, so she labeled him as a beast. His power was everything to him, similar to all the rest of the Espada, but his wasnt so much as a symbol of pride, rather that of prosperity and vitality. Nel could remember his annoying vows to be the strongest, and how the only reason for his loyalty to Aizen was for his privilege to have such power and to continue fighting.

Fighting.

The thing that let them prosper and survive to reach the top of the food chain of a world where they had been reduced to animals. Power was everything. Nel remembered that well, but she sought more than just strength. She didn't want to be an animal, but a warrior; a higher level being; a rational being; the closest she could be to the being she was before death.

Only better.

"Because our power is special." She murmured.

He flicked his stony, slanted eyes to her, but they lacked their usual antipathy.

"Somethin' like that. Without it we're just beasts."

Her eyes glimmered as she looked at her brother, rival, enemy, comrade, former-disobliging-sort-of-pupil...

Or whatever the hell Nnoitra was to her. He never understood her pride for her ability to reason like a being worthy of respect from others and from herself. She had risen back to her status as such a dignified being even after death; and all she had wanted was the same for him and the rest of her comrades.

Could losing their power equate to the debasement of all it took to regain their precious sentience of being their own person?

"But..." Nel laced her fingers and tried to find a reply. "Why would we be put down so low? We're still...people. Even without our strength. Right?"

Nnoitra let out a frustrated growl and racked his messy hair back.

"How the hell should I know? I'm quoting _you, _Neliel."

* * *

Nothing beats spending a worthless day at home with two unmanageable kids, chores, a bad mood, and a list of things to hate about life.

If anyone is wondering, this actually isn't some beat, bitter, suburban housewife doing dishes. It's the former Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques stuck in Casa Espada.

...doing dishes.

His already coarse hands were becoming pruny and raw under the harsh running water, and were submerged in the growing suds of soap. If there was anything more demoralizing than losing the one thing that defined who you were, it was having to do something that was antithetical to who you were.

The Sexta Espada did not do house work. Up until now, anyway. Damn Starrk.

Grimmjow cursed as another flimsy disc of conch splintered to pieces in his steel grip and scattered in the sink. That was the fifth fucking one. Fed up, he growled and shut the damn water off and stalked out of the kitchen and into the living room. There sat Lilynette reading whatever the hell creepy comic things these human, Japanese people loved to draw and read. Seriously, what kind of twisted, perverted person would draw those kinds of buggy-eyed characters? Laying across her lap was their...

...their ward, he guessed: Wonderweiss Margela. For a being that was supposed to be one of Aizen's top creations, he sure had more fun playing with dust bits than fighting out on the battle field. After a little skirmish between them over who could take dominion over the sofa, they reached the joint agreement of Lily using Weiss's head as an arm rest. Both blonds occupied the couch, completely absorbed in whatever frivolous tasks they had while Grimmjow was stuck with the stupid chore list Starrk had left him.

_"Since you can't be on the battlefield with us for some time, you'll be left at home with Weiss and Lily." Said the lax Primera Espada. "Might as well make good use of you while you're stuck there." _

_Fucking bastard! Putting me through this godamned crap! Me! Grimmjow Motherfucking Jeagerjaques! As if I haven't had to deal with a bunch of other crap. Now you're putting this shit on me?! _

_"Whatever." He managed to say bitterly. _

"Are you mentally raging again?" Lily asked offhandedly as she turned a page, captivated with the little drawings. Weiss looked up with that same lost look and let out similar sounds of vaguely interested drivel.

"Maybe." Grimmjow muttered.

"How many broken plates?" She asked in a bored tone. The sarcasm had long faded from her voice since the first couple of dish mishaps. She looked up expectantly, eliciting a scowl from the older Arrancar.

"Like, five or something."

She let out an annoyed sigh, and motioned for Wiess to get up off the couch. The weak-minded Arrancar complied and eagerly followed as his companion disappeared behind the kitchen door.

"Holy shit! What the heck, Grimm?" Her high pitched voice squeaked from behind the door.

"Shut up " He groaned as he plopped onto the sofa.

Ugh. Was this all he had left to do? He had faced boredom plenty of times in Las Noches under that damn Aizen's rules, but at least there he could spar with his fellow Arrancar and hunt other hollows. Here there was nothing to satisfy his desire for battle.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his fixation on fighting was more of a need than simple whim. It was his instinct as a predator to assert his power. It's not like he was born that way. His instincts never left him from his time as a lower level being. No matter how evolved the other Arrancar claimed, their basic instinct was still their and alive as ever.

That splice between man and monster was what defined them.

As he lay sprawled on the sofa, Grimmjow stared up at the white ceiling. He hated the color white. All it did was remind him of hollows, Hueco Mundo's sands, the Arrancar uniform, Las Noches, and his own resurección, Pantera. How odd that a color normally associated with purity and holiness was all that made a world that was believed to be inherently evil. The same idea kind of applied to the hollows there. Some were shameless and bloodthirsty killers and hunters, while others only sought to survive through peaceful means. Grimmjow had likened the white sands and the black sky to represent the juxtaposition of the light and dark aspects of Hueco Mundo: as barren and empty as the place seemed, it wasn't a complete wasteland. There was some light.

He had always considered Hueco Mundo to be some kind of buffer zone for souls. It sure as hell wasn't Heaven, or whatever the Soul Society claimed itself to be, but it wasn't Hell either: it was a place for borderline lost souls that weren't saved by those damned Reapers or sent to punishment by the same damned Reapers. Maybe being 'saved' from being a hollow and being purified would make some weak-level beast happy, but not an Arrancar. It was hard to tell when it happened, but somewhere along the line in their evolution, the Arrancar had gained some higher level thinking, emotions, and beliefs. From Adjuchas to either Vasto Lorde or an Arrancar, the sense of being a hollow became ever more prominent, and soon they were able to form their own identities, which they took pride in. It took him and his comrades some time to realize it, but the sense they regained as they grew stronger allowed them to reach closer approximations to being intelligent, evolutionized beings; something similar to when they were alive.

Only better.

As they grew as Menos, they developed a sense of individualism, and they regained what they had during life: a name. Before their gradual growth from devouring souls and other hollows, the Menos Grande were essentially the same. They had no significant identities or definitive powers. It was only until they gained strength that allowed them to become not just something powerful, but _someone_ powerful, such as in the case of Aaronierro. To have an identity is to have a sense of place in the vast world. His legacy began when he was given his name as an Adjucha.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

Pantera of the sands.

Arrancar in Las Noches.

Sexta Espada under Aizen.

Hollow number six in the Soul Society logs.

Subject six in the laboratory.

Grimm in Casa Espada.

Where had the meaning from his name gone?

Oh right. It left the same time Pantera was ripped from his arms. The time when he was denied to fight like the warrior, the hunter, the survivor he was. That time when he thought he couldn't lose anymore of his self.

This sudden realization that occured as he lost Pantera awoke feelings in him that he thought had been dormant for so long. He was losing who he was, and who he had achieved to become. It was like being erased.

It was like dying all over again.

"Grimmjow?"

Even his own name sounded unfamiliar to him. Especially the way it was spoken. Softly. Hesitantly. With concern and genuine regard for his welfare. His name used to inspire fear and dread from its mere mention on the bleach white plains of Hueco Mundo. He didn't want his name to be spoken in such a weak way, as if it were being cradled like a child's broken doll. He didn't want any insulting pity being latched onto his exsitence. It seemed like the ultimate degradation to him and who he was.

So why did he feel so calmed by the sweet voice?

Why was it that when he lazily titled his head to the side that the fading light of life he once sought in Hueco Mundo was here now? Actually, this light was different.

It was warmer.

"What do you want, girl?"

* * *

It was almost captivating how the sangria red glimmered underneath the moonlight. What really brought out the warm color was how it contrasted with the cold white, like marker bleeding through paper.

"Haven't seen a wound that bad on in you in ages..." Starrk murmured from the back seat.

Baraggan studied the wound from the driver's seat and gave a low grunt in response. Ulquiorra would have told him to keep his eyes on the road had they not reached a red light.

"It's nothing terrible." He said impassively.

"Don't be foolish." Baraggan said sternly.

"We all know that's complete bullshit, Ul." Starrk informed

"Fine, I lied." He admitted in a low, reluctant voice.

"That kind of damage wouldn't have happened if you had your hierro." Baraggan grumbled bitterly. "Instead they left us all with these horrid gigais. Completely unfit for battle and easily ripped like a child's toy."

"I don't think he appreciates that analogy." Starrk muttered as he gazed at Ulquiorra's stony expression.

"None of us do." Baraggan said grimly.

For once. Ulquiorra could absolutely agree with the domineering old man. He clenched his non-mutilated fist upon remembering his blunder in battle.

Normally, he wasn't so clumsy as to make such an error, so Ulquiorra hadn't experienced a real severe injury in a while. Then again, few had seen the damage after his fight with Kurosaki's hollow, but those memories need not be brought up. Besides, this particular mistake wasn't entirely Ulquiorra's fault. Had he been permitted to kill, defeating that one Vasto Lorde wouldn't have been so bad; he wouldn't have been momentarily distracted by the agonizing pain violently attacking his system; the nearby Adjucha wouldn't have sunk it's jaws into his arm and torn it apart. Needless to say...

"It hurts like a bitch." He muttered bitterly.

Starrk's response was a low grunt, but from the slight hint of a smirk on his lips, Ulquiorra could identify it as a laugh.

"What?" He asked in irritation.

"Nothing." Starrk shook his head, but the smirk was still there. "I suppose it's relieving to know that you're actually not a total prude."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ulquiorra asked with a raised brow.

"Haven't heard you complain or curse since...ever." Starrk said simply.

"I've always noted that you weren't particularly as raunchy as the rest of the younger ones in Las Noches." Baraggan said gruffly.

"Hey." Starrk scrunched his brow. "I resent that."

"You don't count." Baraggan explained. "All you do is sleep, so I associate you with old age."

"It may surprise you to know that I actually do have some degree of temperament." Ulquiorra replied with the slightest frown.

"And when did that happen?" Baraggan inquired as he made a turn.

"As if I would know."

Ulquiorra wasn't as crude with his language as some of his brothers. Every now and then a few mild profanities would escape him, but never made it a habit. It was barbaric, crass, vulgar, and above all degrading. Even so, he surprised even himself with the sudden slip. Perhaps it was the stress getting to him, but the blame couldn't be entirely attributed to him either. He lingered on that thought as he studied the black band on his wrist, ironically on the arm that his injury had been inflicted upon.

"Will you ask her to heal it?" Baraggan asked suddenly. Ulquiorra flicked his eyes over to him, but his comrade was focused on driving. They both knew he was talking about, but Ulquiorra was reluctant to answer.

"Perhaps." He shrugged and absent-mindedly fidgeted with the elastic of the black band.

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

Ulquiorra flicked his eyes back to Starrk in aggravation. Starrk was rolling his tired blue eyes in disbelief.

"What now?"

"That question was just a pleasantry. You honestly think anything else is going to heal _that?"_ He said as he pointed to the limp, bloody mess of Ulquiorra's arm.

"I could just visit Kisuke Urahara to have the damage fixed." Ulquiorra answered almost defensively.

"And he'd probably tell you not to bother him and berate you for not visiting the woman in the first place." Starrk retorted.

His expression was unreadable as ever, but an air of negativity settled over Ulquiorra; not only over the fact that Starrk was right, but at the sound of him referring to her. For the strangest reason, the little action irritated him.

Calling her that was _his_ thing...

Ulquiorra settled back in his seat and let out another one of those quiet sighs; they were becoming more frequent as of late. He opened his eyes as they rounded a street corner, only to find that they had taken a completely different route to a park.

"What are you doing?" Starrk immediately asked.

Baraggan didn't respond, but continued to drive down a narrow lane until they reached a shaded clearing underneath a thick block of trees. Shadows fell across his face as they stopped in the small area that denied the light from the stars and moon.

"What feelings bind you to that girl?"

Both younger Espada darted their eyes over to their elderly other in shock of the sudden question. Starrk flicked his eyes over to whom the question was adressed to. Ulquiorra looked mildly surprised, until his features hardened into ice.

"I'm not binded to anyone." He answered with a still glare. Something inside him coiled into a knot. Even with blood seeping onto the cloth on his arm, his pulse quickened.

Baraggan's aged, scarred eyes bore straight into him. Ulquiorra had never taken the liberty to actually look into the old Espada's ashen gaze. His all seeing eyes faltered against those who had truly seen all in their existence.

"Never attempt to disprove me, boy."

Ulquiorra's jaw clenched at his derogatory term. If anyone could refer to him or any of his brothers as such, it was Baraggan; that didn't mean that any of them found it endearing. The old Arrancar's callous gaze hardened against Ulquiorra's cold, jade eyes.

"I've seen many things. I've bore witness to all forms of life and all sides of life, the beautiful and the horrendous. I thought it all meaningless since they meant nothing in the end. But I've come to the conclusion that such things are what cause our inevitable end."

"What are going on about?" Ulquiorra asked impatiently.

"Do not become attached to that girl."

Those were his only words. Seven of them. Spoken with harshness and softness. Condemning, but empty. Stern, but strained. Only seven of them. Only seven words that managed to pierce straight into his core and bled him dry as sand.

He could feel Starrk's suddenly awake eyes on him, silently awaiting his response. Ulquiorra didn't say anything, but felt his body go rigid.

Having noticed this, Baraggan shifted his old eyes out to the decayed tree bark.

"I understand that you have history with her. You've spent the most time with her out of any of us. I've seen the way you orient yourself around that girl, Ulquiorra. It's different. You're different. She has affected you."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened enough to make the viens in his aged hands surface from underneath the skin.

"That is what makes her dangerous to you."

"Baraggan." Starrk said with a cautious voice.

"Look at your arm, Ulquiorra."

"I don't have to." Ulquiorra replied coldly. "I already see the damage."

"You see it, but what does it mean?" Asked the cryptic old man. "How did you get it?

Ulquiorra shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and glared out the window.

"The injection from the soul band impeded me from dodging the incoming Adjucha." He replied scornfully.

"Why were you punished?"

"I mistakenly killed the Vasto Lorde I was battling." He said with strain.

"Why did you kill it?"

_Because it's my nature. Our nature. We kill to survive and have been doing such for as long as we have existed. It was purely instinctive for me to finish off my enemy. _

"Nnoitra pissed you off." Starrk replied quietly. "You took it out on that Vasto Lorde."

Unable to refute his claim, Ulquiorra grit his teeth and nodded slowly.

"I could see it in your eyes." Baraggan continued. "Upon hearing Nnoitra's lewd comment about the girl, you became more aggressive with your opponent. Displacement of anger it would seem."

"Nnoitra regularly irritates me." He replied as calmly as he could. "I fail to see your point."

"Had that comment been directed towards anyone else, you wouldn't have even blinked." Baraggan answered. "Equally, not only do you subtly defend her against the Espadas' insults, you yourself continually avoid her."

"If that were true, wouldn't that weaken your claim?" Ulquiorra asked as he stared out at the night sky. Without the sunlight, it was just a flat sheet of dull purples and dark blue.

"No." The elder Arrancar answered. "Quite the opposite. That which touches the heart is the most difficult to face. You tend to stay away from her: only until she approaches you. That is when you are lost."

The knot inside him tightened.

"Everytime she is mentioned, the air around you changes. Everytime she is near, your aura relaxes. Everytime she speaks to you, the coldness in your eye melts."

Dead silence occupied the darkness inside the car. With each word, Ulquiorra could feel his shoulders drop, and his eyes lower in defeat. Suddenly, he could feel his pulse slow in accordance with Baraggan's words.

"Such an attachment is lethal to us." Baraggan warned. "It changes our perception of actions, diminishes our alertness, and weakens our resolve to fight."

After a moment, he added in a barely audible voice.

"It brings a cureless pain."

Niether Ulquiorra nor Starrk had noticed when their comrade began driving again. This time, the path was still unfamiliar. Baraggan seemed to be drifting about endlessly in the night. Despite his focus on the road, his eyes looked lost. More accurately, they seemed captured by other thoughts.

"I'm only giving you a warning, boy." He explained softly. "We hollows have no one to trust...not even ourselves, so it is your decision to accept my claim. I only stand for our survival. An intimate relationship with that girl is impossible for you. The Soul Society would not stand for it, especially after our history with her. They would suspect malice in our intentions and would administer the lethal shock without hesitance."

His blood turned to ice. Ulquiorra could hear Starrk shift in the back. As he looked in the mirror, even when his brother's face was obscured by the darkness of the night, there was dread in those pale blue eyes of his. Then his eyes drifted down to the black band. The skin around it felt chilled from it's touch. He could feel his pulse against the black strap. Such a simple little thing could assure either one of his comrade's deaths; his as well. He had heard the expression 'wearing your heart on your sleeve'.

Death had his beating heart wrapped in it's black grip.

Baraggan brought his own wristband up to his scarred eyes. The golden cuffs of royalty had been replaced with the inescapable shackles of death.

"When you ask her to heal you, do not lose yourself to her. You cannot become too close to that girl with such a risk. Besides...she is human. You are not. Any bond between you two will undoubtedly end in suffering."

"How do you know?"

Both he and Starrk turned their eyes over to Ulquiorra, but his eyes were still glued to the dark sky outside. The normal steadiness of his voice had dwindled down to a quiet murmur. He never let his voice sound so low. He had never had trouble speaking before. He could always let his thoughts flow free, and could always say what he deemed necessary to say without difficulty.

"How can you be so sure that I'll be affected by this?"

Why was it so hard to ask such a simple question?

Even though he wasn't staring straight at him, Ulquiorra could see Baraggan reflected in the window pane. Somehow, those lusterless gray eyes carried the smallest glint of sorrowful light in absolute darkness.

"You know why, boy."

* * *

After what seemed like the whole day, Baraggan, Starrk, and Ulquiorra made it back to the apartment complex around nine.

"So we're the only ones who made it home?" Starrk asked with vague interest.

Ulquiorra nodded in response.

"It seems everyone else was sidetracked." Baraggan said as he checked his cell phone messages.

Aaroniero and Szayel had been planning to visit Urahara's shop for information on the development of new effective zanpakutos, while Halibel was coerced into making a quick stop at an ice cream shop. They had no idea where Zommari or, more importantly, Nnoitra had disappeared off to...

"There's a trail of blood forming from your path." Starrk pointed out nonchalantly. "Seriously, get that fixed. Last thing we need is Szayel bitching about getting stains on the carpet."

"These bodies are weak, Ulquiorra." Baraggan warned. "Get the wound treated before whatever human infection damages your system even more."

"She may not even be home." Ulquiorra answered in irritation. "I refuse to barge into anyone else's home and forge an unwanted reputation for myself."

"It doesn't necessarily have to be 'barging in' if you have common courtesy to knock." Starrk muttered under his breath. "Besides, would she really care? It's not like that woman has any temper to match _all_ that muscle she has. What's the worst she could do?"

"She would slap you."

Their eyebrows arched up at the matter-of-fact tone in Ulquiorra's voice, neither had time to dwell on it as they reached their door.

"Did you remember your keys, Ul?" Starrk asked. Even with the sluggishness in his voice, Ulquiorra could pick up on the slight mocking lilt.

"Take a guess." Ulquiorra responded as the other Espada backed away to make room for him.

"Pleasantry..." Starrk sang lazily as the door was forced open with another single kick. The wooden rectangle flew back and hit the adjacent wall with a sharp smash. Niether of the three battle-hardened Arrancar would have surprised by the loud noise.

...had it not been followed by a familiar girlish yelp of surprise.

Immediately, they all entered their home to find, as expected, Lilynette and Wonderweiss seated at the sofas, while Grimmjow leaned against the wall near the hallway. What they didn't expect was streaks of burnt orange to flood the vision of their mocha colored home.

"Took you guys damn long enough." Grimmjow said coldly.

Ulquiorra would have returned the same glare had not a familiar pair of diamond eyes locked onto his. Before he knew it, they were getting closer. Closer and closer to his. Larger and almost teary with worry. Baraggan's words from before faded away like Ulquiorra was underwater.

Underwater. Drowning in under the rain from the gray clouds. Completely lost in her, like Baraggan had said.

And he didn't care.

"Oh my gosh! Ulquiorra, what happened?!"

* * *

He would have been content with laying slack in his bed with nothing to pervade his room except the thin streaks of moonlight that slithered in through the closed curtains. Even with such an uneventful day, he felt worn out.

_Like some old geezer. _He thought bitterly.

Well, actually, the day hadn't been a total drag. That wasn't to say that he enjoyed the girl's visit. No, he was still annoyed by her and her weak disposition. He just decided to be impassive to her presence. Out of complete boredom. He hadn't even talked all that much. Niether did she. Really, there were only a few words exchanged between them. It's not like they had a whole lot to say to each other anyway. She just randomly decided to speak with him and he just randomly decided to humor her. All he needed to do was speak a few words.

A few words that apparently said so much to her. She said little as well, but everything about her spoke volumes. He never knew it was so easy to let things out with such few words. Maybe that's why he hadn't sent her away immediately. Maybe that's why he felt so solaced by her listening to him, and just being there with him

Maybe that's why he felt anger when she ran off to Ulquiorra.

No it wasn't anger.

It was disappointment.

He hated her for making him feel like that. He hated Ulquiorra, too, for being the center of attention all the time. Then again, what didn't he hate about this place? All of the negativity he felt was consuming him, so he, like he said, he would have been totally fine with lazing around in his room until the despondency faded away.

Key word: would.

The incessant knocking at his door was more than enough to drive him to enragement, but he was too drained to do anything about it.

"Beat it." He growled.

"It's Ulquiorra." Came the emotionless voice from behind the wooden door.

"It's Grimmjow. Get lost." He replied as he turned over on his back.

"Let me in."

"You gonna break my fuckin' door down?" Grimmjow snapped back in aggravation.

"That won't be necessary unless you open the door."

In great vexation, Grimmjow heaved himself from his bed and stalked over to the door. He flung it open to see Ulquiorra leaning calmly on the wall parallel to the line of rooms on one side of the hallway. His slitted eyes had that same infuriating blankness about them.

"What?" Grimmjow spat acidicly.

Ulquiorra's cold eyes trailed up to meet Grimmjow's blazing ones. Normally, such a caustic confrontation would lead to a fight between the two comrades, but Ulquiorra remained undaunted. He pushed himself off the wall and brought something out from behind his back.

A container.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed down at it distrustfully.

"The hell is that?"

"Your dinner."

"Made by who?" He asked with caution.

Ulquiorra's brow twitched in irritation, but he patiently held the little box out for Grimmjow.

"By Nnoitra."

"Great." Grimmjow said as he snatched the container. "Now I know you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"In that case, I might as well keep it as a torture device. Or can I use this to kill hollows?" He concluded bitterly as he slammed the door shut. He was halfway to flushing the contents of the 'food' down the toilet, until he heard the door creak open.

He cursed. The pale bastard had caught the door with his foot. He heard the sound of a quiet shut and click. He cursed again. The pale bastard was in his room.

"What do you freaking want?" Grimmjow groaned out angrily.

"It took a half an hour of coaxing and violent struggle to get Nnoitra to even step in the kitchen. You're damn well going to eat it, even if I have to-"

"Shove it down my throat?"

Grimmjow turned around to lock his gaze on Ulquiorra.

"Or stick some IV's into me?" He challenged, not faltering in his glaring contest with his 'brother'.

"We both know those are empty threats." Grimmjow muttered as he plopped onto his bed, container still in his hands.

"So?" He asked impatiently as his unwanted guest still remained. Ulquiorra just stared at him with an empty gaze, and oddly...a dejected air about him. Grimmjow saw the noticeable difference in the Cuatra Espada's posture: slack shoulders, hands at his sides, and overall, uncharacteristically downcast eyes.

He looked just as beat down as Grimmjow felt. It wasn't even a surprise when he asked the inevitable question that Grimmjow couldn't find an answer for.

"What was she doing here?"

Grimmjow studied Ulquiorra with a sharp look in his feline eyes. The way the short, messy hair curtained part of his face made it seem like he was trying to hide himself. For all of the years that they had lived together, ate together, lazed around together, and fought together, Grimmjow had come to understand the basic mannerisms that made up who his comrade was: stoic, confident, apathetic, and empty, but uncaring of such.

The heaviness he displayed now was incongruous to the behavior of the spiritless hollow warrior Grimmjow knew as his comrade and brother.

It pissed him off and made him feel a different way, too.

"She just invited herself in." He said in a low voice. "Why do you even care?"

He almost wished he hadn't asked the question. Even in the considerable dark, Grimmjow could see shadows pervade Ulquiorra's jade eyes.

"Why would I care?" He asked himself.

Something about the way he said it ticked Grimmjow off. Actually, he didn't even know how it made him feel. All he knew was that the lingering melancholy in his voice and eyes made something in Grimmjow's chest tighten.

Was that anger? He couldn't tell anymore.

"Look," He began in annoyance. He just wanted the bastard to get the hell out. "The door was open and she just walked in. I don't know what she wanted, but she just sat down and started asking me damn questions. 'Why are you laying down?', 'Where's everyone else?', 'Why do you look so down?'. Annoying shit like that." He concluded after straining the high falsetto to impersonate her unnervingly cute voice.

"She kept bugging me like a little pest." He continued. "So I just played nice and answered. I thought she'd leave afterwards, but then she started talking with Lily. That's about when you guys showed up."

It was hard to miss the bitterness that took over his voice in the last sentence. Ulquiorra's expressionless eyes drifted over to Grimmjow.

"Then she went running back to you to heal your arm. You played it like a damn stick in the mud, and then she left." He muttered.

_She just dropped everything and ran back to her sweet jailor's side. And you just take it like the clueless dumbass you are. The girl literally trips over herself just to be at your side and you don't even bat an eye to her._

For a terse moment, Grimmjow could see something else occupy those dead, lusterless eyes of his companion, but then Ulquiorra turned his head away.

"I see."

"Cut that out."

The words didn't come out as harsh as he had intended to. Whenever he didn't appear to like something, Grimmjow would simply demand that it cease to exist, lest the person his annoyance was directed at wanted to meet a bloody end. He definitely didn't like Ulquiorra; he despised everything about his blunt comrade, but what really angered him was the absolute destitution he was showing. Just as Ulquiorra's eyes shifted over to his, the anger in Grimmjow consumed him from the inside like blazing flames.

"Get that pathetic look off your face before I tear it off."

Even his threats sounded unserious. If anything, he sounded like a peeved twelve-year-old. The bastard just kept staring at him with those gloomy eyes.

"Sorry."

He didn't even bother to react when Grimmjow grabbed the collar of his shirt and thrust him up against the door. The wood splintered underneath it, and it was probably piercing into his back, but the pale Arrancar only stared blankly into Grimmjow's enraged blue eyes.

"You're seriously pissing me off!" He roared. It was the dead of the night, the both of them were no doubt tired as fuck, and this stupid jerk had the nerve to act like some depressed little bitch in front of Grimmjow.

"If you need somewhere to cry to yourself like the little pussy you are, then go somewhere else. What? Did you wanna pour your damn 'feelings' out to me? You wanted to be comforted? That is so unlike you! Since when do you get sad over shit?! EVER?! What the hell is happening to you? What the hell is happening to all of us?!"

Grimmjow hadn't realized that he started shouting. He didn't care. Everything was pouring out like storm currents. So what if their fellow Epada could hear? So what if that damned girl could hear? Let them all hear how truly miserable he was, and realize how they all feel the same way.

"If you wanna moan about how shitty life is, then go weep at that little bitch's feet."

Still no response. Why wasn't he getting angry? Didn't anyone else hold as much fury as Grimmjow did in this situation? Why couldn't he relate to anyone else? Why was the only person who was willing to listen the damn person he should hate? The damn person who had so little to do with their internment, but was always there to try and soothe them to no avail. That damn person that actually managed to make him feel a little bit better. That damn person that didn't give a damn about him.

How come no matter how much he wanted to hate everything about this human world and what it was doing to him, he couldn't direct that hatred towards her, and everything she seemed to do to him?

"What is it with that stupid girl anyway?"

That seemed to catch Ulquiorra's attention, judging from the way his body tensed up against the door.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...what's up with you and her?"

The tension was still there, but he managed to let out small breath.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you never answer."

"What if I don't have an answer?"

Now it was Grimmjow's turn to look down at him. If there wasn't honesty and confusion lurking on those glowing eyes, he didn't know what was there. Ulquiorra's hand gripped his wrist as a signal to let go, and Grimmjow complied.

"I can't give a straight answer for anything nowadays." He murmured. "It's all so complicated."

"You went from being a total know-it-all to another clueless tool like the rest of us. Congrats." Grimmjow muttered.

The anger was ebbing out of him, and was being replaced by that same nothingness from earlier today.

"Everything is different."

Grimmjow looked up at the sound of Ulquiorra's empty voice. His brother was eyeing the floor in deep thought. It even seemed like he wasn't talking to anyone in particular, not even himself.

"Everything we knew since the nascent of our existence as hollows is being changed in this world. As creatures of Hueco Mundo we had power and freedom. We transcended above humans, Soul Reapers, and even other members of our race. From the lowest depths of misery, we climbed to the top through survival and endurance, and regained the greatest might of our intellect and even more power. We were content, even though something was missing."

All that he was saying registered as correct in Grimmjow's mind, up until the last sentence. He looked to see Ulquiorra's hands in his pockets, as usual, but instead of appearing indifferent, he looked even more pensive. His eyes traveled over to the side, and Grimmjow could have sworn he saw a glimmer of fear in them.

"Is our current condition a result of what we have lost or what we are gaining back?"

He could have shouted that there was nothing to be gained here in this world. There was nothing for the dead in this world other than to feel lost and out of place. There was nothing for a warrior who could not fight. There was nothing for a hollow that could not feel. There was nothing for Grimmjow since he had lost Pantera and was losing everything from Hueco Mundo.

He could have pointed all of that out, but something stopped him. Something in the pit of him that responded to that glimmer in Ulquiorra's eyes. Some foriegn lurching sensation that he thought long gone since death. It had been so long that he couldn't recognize it.

"Why would you ask me?"

This had been the longest discussion they had ever engaged in. Before, the two of them rarely even approached each other, and the only time they interacted was either during a heated argument or a fight. What was binding them now?

"I just wanted to know."

He hadn't even noticed the heavy rain outside.

"Why was she crying?"

Grimmjow had been asking himself the same thing since she left.

* * *

_"You're here by yourself?" _

_"Weiss and Lily are here, too."_

_"But, how come you're not with the others?" _

_"Take a guess." _

_"The Soul Society...?"_

_"...took Pantera from me. They got what they wanted."_

_"I'm sorry..."_

_"I don't want your damn sympathy."_

_"What _do _you want?" _

_"To be able to fight again." _

_"Why...?"_

She had been terrified to ask the question in fear of his rage. Astonishingly, he didn't get mad. She almost wished he had gotten mad. Anything would have been less heartbreaking than the truth.

_"It's the only thing that makes me feel alive." _

Orihime clutched empty air at her chest in memory of her exposure to the pain of the Espada. Such few words were spoken in her time with him, but she stayed with him for almost an hour. In that much time, she saw more than she had ever imagined she would of the hollow next door. There was so much unseen hurt lurking behind those murky blue eyes. Even if he couldn't articulate those intense feelings, Orihime could feel them coil around her and constrict her like a serpent. It left her breathless, choked, and weak.

His pain wasn't singular either. She could see the same emptiness in the eyes of the other Espada who had returned home. Even as she healed his arm, she could still feel the melancholy emitting from Ulquiorra in slow, sad waves.

He didn't even look at her.

_"I just wanna feel alive." _

The tears that they couldn't shed prickled in the corner of her eyes and dripped onto the side of her pillow. She wished she could heal more than just external pain.

_"That's all I want."_

* * *

**A/N: Nothing makes realxing from exam week like going through an emotional evaluation of fictional characters. This chapter was fairly Espada-centric, but never fear, we will see our main heroes very soon. Sorry if this one was kinda boring and depressing...like Grimm. More light-hearted chapters are to come, I promise.**

**I'm loving your reviews! Please let me know what you think of this chapter and call me out on anything. Keep up your support!**


	6. Chapter 6: Disharmony

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 6: Disharmony

* * *

**A/N: Awkward chapter is awkward. Oh well, I'll let you guys decide. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

Clouds swam about in the pale skies, drifting aimlessly like lost wanderers. Funny how no clouds looked identical to one another, yet they were essentially composed of the same matter. The same concept applied to humans; no matter how different they looked, all of the fickle beings were the same to Stark.

Perhaps he was simply unwilling to seek out their individuality.

It's not like anything like that really ever mattered to him. Despite his keen awareness, he never was one to pay close attention to detail. That is, until he noticed a few humans that were more interesting than the rest of the fickle bunch.

Clearly, Ulquiorra felt the same way.

The two of them were leaning against the classroom window with their eyes on the gym students out in the fields. Among them was their next door neighbor, happily running about with her friends on the playing field. She truly looked like a bottle of sunshine, with that bright smile, fiery hair, and killer body. Even in the modest sweats, her figure outdid many of the considerably older female Arrancar from Las Noches. Not that he'd ever care to try to hit on her: he certainly was not a pedophile (Lilynette was his spiritual half...), he wasn't a flirt like Nnoitra, or an idiot like anyone else who had ever seriously messed with Ulquiorra.

So he decided to not be serious about it.

"So how long are you planning on staring at her?"

That caught his attention. The way Ulquiorra's head snapped up as if he'd just been pulled out of a haze was all too amusing. It was rare to catch the aloof Cuatra Espada off guard. Upon realizing that he'd been caught, Ulquiorra's features stiffened into their normal hard set.

"I wasn't staring." He said as he crossed his arms.

"Denial is the clincher, Ul." Starrk informed with a slight teasing lilt. Ulquiorra let out a small sigh.

"You're much less annoying when you're asleep."

"Which is why I tend to spare you the aggravation." Starrk replied with a yawn. "Hint hint."

"I see." Ulquiorra said distractedly.

Starrk rolled his eyes. He didn't even need to look up to know what he was looking at. Just from the way his voice lost it's cold edge could he tell that he was looking at her with that earnest gaze of his. It brought his mind back to Baraggan's warning to him just a few days ago. Had he simply heard of the confrontation between the two from Lilynette's gossip, he would have dismissed the news as inaccurate drabbles from her; but he had been there to see Baraggan's and Ulquiorra's reactions. It never would have occurred to Starrk to think of Ulquiorra, or any of his comrades for that matter, actually bonding with someone. The idea was absolutely absurd. Right?

"Have you talked with her since that night?" He asked uncaringly.

Never one to immediately address a direct question, Ulquiorra just shifted his green gaze over to Starrk, and glared at him for some time.

"No." Came the quiet reply.

Unsurprised, Starrk merely nodded and took a sip of his cold coffee.

"So you're actually following advice. You're that hopeless, huh?"

He hadn't expected much of a reaction. If anything, all he was looking for was an annoyed glare. He definitely wasn't prepared for a despondent grimace.

_Must have hit a nerve._ He thought as his conscience nagged at him.

"Hey." Starrk said with a hint of an apology in his voice. "That was just a joke."

"I know." Ulquiorra responded vapidly, but he didn't even bother to look up.

Normally, Starrk didn't care for other people's problems. They were usually just petty things that only lasted for a few hours, and his fellow Espada were rarely bothered by such little nuances.

Someone like Ul couldn't be so affected by something as insignificant as one human. Even for a remorseless hollow, the guy was notorious for never giving a shit.

So why did he look so drained?

"You seriously thinking about what the old man said yesterday?" Hd asked with a little more curiosity.

Ul still refused to meet Starrk's eyes, but gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Just trying to comprehend what exactly he meant."

'What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm having trouble understanding his view. It's not my intention to avoid anyone here, though I'm not opposed to the idea. I'm simply preoccupied with our own situation." He concluded by slipping his hands in his pockets.

"Well," Starrk said before he sipped his coffee. "You have spoken with her a lot, haven't you?"

"I suppose."

"She seems most comfortable around you whenever she comes over. Like, the moment you enter the room, she automatically relaxes. I guess that's 'cause she spent the most time with you, like the old man said. Maybe it's her feelings that he's fussing over." Starrk shrugged as he took a small sip of his drink. "You know, like, she'll get attached to you."

There were only mere suggestions. It's not like he even really was apart of this whole debate, but for some reason, he just wanted to give some input. He was just interested in the development between his brother and that little human girl, especially from her standpoint.

"She is pretty emotional." He concluded with a shrug.

_Maybe she has a crush on you. _

Ulquiorra listened intently, but still looked unsure.

"I don't follow."

"Baraggan sounded crystal clear to me, Ul." Starrk sighed. "Even if it sounds unrealistic, just be careful. Don't give the Reapers any reason to distrust us. You know the woman best, so whatever you do will affect her the most."

"That's not what I meant." He said.

Starrk balked at the dismissive tone in his voice. He looked over to see Ulquiorra's hands in his pocket, and his eyes downcast in contemplation.

"I fully understand the impending risk of seeming like a threat, but that's not what confuses me." He said quietly, as if he were speaking to himself.

"Then what?" Starrk asked, honestly lost.

"What would I suffer because of her?"

The question was so sincere. Starrk could only wonder in silence along with his confused brother.

"What 'cureless pain' was Baraggan talking about?"

Starrk had been asking himself the same question since that night. For as long as he had known the despotic aged Arrancar, he had never seen such a side to him. No doubt the former king of Hueco Mundo would have an abundance of knowledge over worldly matters, but how did he know so much about humans? Starrk hadn't engaged in the conversation himself, but he studiously observed his comrades' body language. However stern Baraggan had sounded, something about his eyes changed. The damn beady things were hard to look into (they made you so damn uncomfortable), but that night they looked translucent. By that, he meant it was as if something obscure was there; something unidentifiable, but definitely there.

He saw the same kind of clouded look in Ulquiorra's eyes, last night and at present. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a thing in a hollow's dead eye, so why did it seem so familiar to him?

"Hell if I know..." He mumbled, upset with his own lame answer. Ulquiorra only brushed his hair out of his eyes.

Starrk couldn't help but follow his line of vision as he stared down at the unsuspecting girl twirling about the fields, seemingly as if without a care in the world. For a chance second, she stopped short in their game, and looked up in the direction of the classroom they were in. The moment those pretty gray eyes found the two of them, her smile got impossibly brighter, happier, and lovelier.

Starrk didn't look directly at Ulquiorra, but he could see his face reflected in the glass panes. His face didn't change, but it wasn't necessarily as cold as it usually was. Apparently she was being called back to the field, because she jumped at the sound of a whistle. With a sheepish smile, she appeared to laugh and waved a shy hand.

He gave a small wave back.

The soft buzzing noise from his pocket tore the moment to pieces, and soon Ulquiorra was flipping his cell phone open to answer a call.

"What is it, Szayel?"

For a few moments, incomprehensible words sounded from the speaker, and with each sound, the blank look on Ulquiorra's faced shifted into one of perplexity.

"I see." He murmured as he nodded along. "That's all they said?"

'What is it?' Starrk mouthed curiously, but Ulquiorra held up his finger in a sign to wait.

"Alright." He said. Starrk noticed the slightest furrow of frustration in his brow. "I understand. I'll let him know by the end of the day. Goodbye."

"What's up?" Starrk asked as soon as he hung up the phone.

"Well, for one, our central city group needs assistance. A huge influx of Menos only have poured into the city."

"So they really need backup?" Starrk asked in slight annoyance.

"Yes."

"Great..." He muttered. "What's the other thing?"

"We just got word from Squad Two on the situation with Grimmjow." Ulquiorra replied calmly as he grabbed his jacket from the nearby chair.

"They're the ones who assigned his consequences, right? What do they want?" Starrk asked as they headed out the door.

"Baraggan has been trying to get them to lift the ban on his fighting privileges, and restore his resurección to him. They finally reached an agreement..."

"Okay? I mean, that's good then. Right...?" Starrk's voice trailed off upon seeing how pale (he could get paler?) his brother looked. Then his eyes considerably widened when he noticed Ulquiorra cracking his knuckles.

Something the Cuatra Espada only ever did when he was troubled.

"Perhaps." Ulquiorra responded.

"Ul."

Starrk's voice dropped to a severely low pitch. Anything that could even slightly alarm Ulquiorra Cifer was dubbed as dangerous in his book.

"What happened?"

Before they reached the exit to the school grounds, Ulquiorra stopped and gave Starrk a long, hard look. Then he let out a sigh and held out his hand for his sword to materialize in. With the other hand, he took out his cell phone that was beeping furiously with continuous messages from their struggling comrades. As he scrolled through the list of texts, he stopped at one.

"Shit." He said unexpectedly.

"_Seriously_." Starrk arched a surprised brow. "What is it?"

"That."

He pointed up to the line of buildings across from the school. Starrk settled his vision to the clouds above where the faintest black crack in the clear sky grinned mockingly at them. From it, hordes of Menos descended upon Karakura Town.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Starrk glared up at the sky.

"For once, I agree." Ulquiorra muttered as he dialed a number and waited for the call to send.

"Grimmjow. Get to the school quickly." He ordered. "We need you to pick something up."

* * *

"What's their deal?" Tatsuki asked curiously.

"Hmmm?" Orihime looked up from the water fountain to where Tatsuki was staring. From where the two girls were standing alone, they could see Ulquiorra and Starrk occupied with something at the school entrance gates. Then out of nowhere, they both disappeared into thin air.

"Wh-what the hell?" Tatsuki gaped in shock at the empty space where they just were. "Where'd they go?"

"They used Sonido." Orihime informed as she gazed off at the school gates. "It's a hollow technique that lets them move super quickly."

"And they just did that out in public?" Tatsuki whispered in an annoyed voice. "Don't they have the slightest capability for subtlety?"

Orihime let out light laugh.

"They really are kinda careless, huh?"

Tatsuki was immediately alerted by the sudden drop in her voice.

"What's bothering you now?" She let out a tired sigh like a worried mother.

"It's not really my place to say anything..." Orihime said with a sheepish smile.

"Why?" Tatsuki inquired seriously. "What happened with them."

"There's no need for that murderous light in your eye, Tatsuki." Orihime tried to assure her blazing friend. "They didn't do anything bad."

_And yet they're still suffering. _

"So then what's with the pouty face?"

"Oh, I don't know." Orihime mumbled.

How could she explain how she felt? She trusted Tatsuki more than anyone, but there was no way she could disclose what she knew about the Espadas' plight. It was too personal. She felt like an invader herself, just by knowing of their struggles, and like a useless bystander in what to do for them.

What could she do? It's not like she could fight for them. She wasn't physically strong like her friends. She wasn't assertive or intimidating. Nothing she could say would sway the Soul Society. She doubted her friends could even understand her sympathy for her new neighbors. The Espada probably wouldn't even consider her in their situation.

It's not like she really mattered to them. She had just been their captive. Still, she couldn't stand to watch them suffer.

_I really am a helpless girl._ She thought with a sad smile.

"I just hope for the best for them." She said so quietly that Tatsuki almost missed her words. At the same time, the coach blew a harsh whistle to signal the end of their break.

"BACK ON THE FIELD! LET'S HUSTLE!"

"Shut up..." Tatsuki grumbled as she stretched her arms. "The score's deadlocked at three to three. Think your girls can take the heat, Princess?"

"Our team is ready for anything." Orihime said with a grin and competitive glint in her eye. The girls lined up at the field opposite from the boys' side. From the corner of her eye, Orihime could see a blur of orange sneak away behind the equipment storage shed.

"Ichigo's stealthy as always." Tatsuki muttered. "That or sensei's head is shoved so far up his ass he can't hear anything."

"KUROSAKI! WHERE IS THAT PUNK?!"

"Poor guy's still got that delinquent rep following him." Tatsuki said with a sigh.

"Don't worry, Chad's got him covered." Orihime said with a smile as she saw Chad towering over sensei as he tried to make up an excuse for his friend, unaware of how he unintentionally intimidated the teacher.

"Wasn't the point of the Espada fighting so that Ichigo didn't have to during school?" Tatsuki whispered.

"I think they need backup." Orihime replied.

_"They_ need help?"Tatsuki said incredulously. Orihime didn't miss the slight worried pitch in her friend's normally steady voice. She gulped in response.

"Come on girls!" Their female sensei called out to them. "Line up!"

"Let's move." Tatsuki said as she ran ahead.

"Coming!" Orihime called as she finished tightening her laces. She jumped up and proceeded to jog up to her class.

Until a tall figure materialized in front of her.

She didn't even have time to gasp before she was lifted off the ground in strong arms. Tatsuki's voice faded to an echo in the background. For just a fraction of a second, her eyes widened against feline cerulean ones.

"You're coming with me, woman."

* * *

She had always wondered what it was like to perform a flash step like Soul Reapers. She supposed the same could apply to Sonido. Yeah, it was a rush, but her entire attention was stolen by the same man who stole her in her time as prisoner in Las Noches.

"G-grimmjow?!" She managed to stutter.

Unsurprisingly, he rolled his eyes.

"No, it's Yammy."

"What are you...!" Her words stopped short as she surveyed their surroundings.

Hollows.

Everywhere.

It was like a sea of them flooding into the city from the black crack in the sky. None lasted very long. Each one was eventually befallen by Arrancar and Soul Reaper alike. Orihime could see the Espada, even Lilynette and Wonderwiess, out in the hectic chaos, trying to take down each Menos.

Without killing any of them.

It wasn't until a few Soul Reapers were knocked into the concrete that she noticed a clearing where a building used to be. There she saw bodies. Bodies of Soul Reapers. Bodies of the Espada.

"They need healing." Grimmjow said quietly.

He wordlessly leaped off of the building they were on, with her still in his arms, and used Sonido to make it to the wounded.

Members of Squad Four looked as if they would attack her with pleas for help, but they cowered away from the look of contempt on her Espada carrier's face.

Speaking of which...

"U-um...Grimmjow?" She patted his shoulder lightly.

"What?" He drifted his glaring eyes in her direction.

"I need to get down..." She mumbled, staring at the ground to avoid his eyes.

Shrugging, he settled her down and disappeared elsewhere. She didn't have much time to recover from the embarrassment because several medical Reapers hoarded around her like jittery elves. They led her to a wide clearing where she recognized a familiar head of turquoise.

"The Arrancar need specific attention. They're amputees and we can't find the missing limb..."

"Nel..."

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes at the sight of the beautiful hollow girl sitting upright against a slab of rock, dress tattered, hair matted and dampened with sweat, blood stains and cuts on her body...

Missing a leg...

Nel, who appeared to be resting, opened one eye and lifted her head with some difficulty, but managed a weak smile.

"Hi Hime." She said with a sheepish laugh.

Her weakened voice managed to jump-start Orihime's heart and mind.

"Ayame!" She called out.

The tiny fairy spread her orange field over the warriors and worked to assemble their mangled bodies. Orihime ran over to Nel's side and fixated herself on repairing the part of her leg from the knee down.

"H-how did this...?" She could barely speak as she tried to concentrate and hold her tears back at the same time. She had seen worse wounds on enemies, but none on any of her comrades. The worst had been the hole impaled in Ichigo's chest from his fight with Ulquiorra.

_Ichigo...Ulquiorra...where are they?!_

"Calm down, Hime." Nel said comfortingly. "I just messed up in a fight. A really big Adjucha bit my leg and tossed me away. But it's okay! I hit it with a Cero before I crashed!"

"But, Nel you're leg, it..." Orihime swallowed the painful words back. She couldn't bear to look at the truth much less say it.

"It's okay." Nel smiled encouragingly. "You're here and you'll get it back for me. I know you can do it!"

She was right. Orihime couldn't waste time crying now. She nodded her head and made haste in rejecting the wounds from her and the rest of the Reapers. As a few left the field to fight again, Orihime noticed the Garganta widening ever so slightly. More Menos were arriving even a few smaller, powerful Vasto Lorde. However, there were fighters up on the sky front as well. She saw Toshiro and Ikkaku taking on aerial Adjuchas while Baraggan, Starrk, and Szayel were facing off against stronger Vasto Lorde. The rest of Squad Ten and the Espada must have stuck to the streets.

Ichigo was probably out there too.

She banished her worried thoughts and focused on healing Nel from the ankle. Soon the rest of her foot reformed and she was able to leave Ayame's field. Orihime watched as she twirled on the new leg and jumped up happily.

"Wow! All better! See, I knew you could do it!" Nel said with a sweet smile.

Orihime watched, awestruck at how easily she could recover from the trauma of losing a limb. How was it that Orihime was more affected by her pain than she herself was? The sound of hollow roars echoed in the city, their vibrations causing cracks in the walls and buildings. Orihime inched closer to Nel as a colony of Menos Grande approached from the depths of the inner city. Nel had her arm in front of Orihime, sword drawn in the other, ready to charge into the flock of hollows.

Until flashes of bright red and green fell a few from the building tops. There they could see Ulquiorra and Grimmjow running along the tops and firing Ceroes to weaken the hollows for upcoming Reapers to take them down.

"Grimmjow? How is he...?"

"They're 'letting' him fight now."

Orihime balked at the dark look that replaced the smile on Nel's face. The tone that graced her sweet pitched voice was bitter, and completely unsuited for the sweet girl. She turned back to the raging city with an unfamiliar, serious light in her childish eyes.

"I better go." She said with a tired sigh.

"Again?!" Orihime couldn't stop herself from bursting. "Nel, you just got healed."

With a sad smile on her face, Neliel shook her head and took Orihime's trembling hand in her strong one.

"I have to go, Hime." She said softly. "My comrades need me. I have to fight with them. And you need to stay here and heal your friends."

"But..."

"I'll be safe this time. I promise." She said and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"And, don't worry about that big, mean Adjucha..." Orihime heard her say. When she looked up, she could see a glint of guilt in her hazel eyes.

"Mari killed it on accident..."

In seconds, Neliel left her side to join the rest of her brothers and sisters in their battles against the Menos. Orihime was left to tend to the injuries of the rest of the Reapers. Shaking her head resolutely, she stood firmly at the field created by Ayame, and concentrated all of her power to reject the wounds inflicted upon her comrades by the Menos.

Fighters came and left for healing throughout the nonstop extended battle. Far more Soul Reapers received injuries from their fights, but anytime an Arrancar arrived their wounds were far more grave. Orihime could vaguely remember Hitsugaya's explanation of how the Espada could not perform any unauthorized killing of a hollow without a purifying zanpakuto. She wasn't stupid as to believe that there was no correlation between being unable to fight properly and receiving more injuries in battle.

It was unfair and impractical. The Soul Reapers knew how powerful the Espada were, and how easily they could assist in the fight against hollows in the city, but they refused to allow them to fight properly. The only way they could do so would be to alter their zanpakutos and give up the powers that constituted that they were hollows, which was far too important to them.

Either way, the Espada got the short end of the deal. She had suspected this fact a while ago after her ruminations over the complex conflict between the former enemies. Orihime didn't want to believe that the Soul Society could ever manipulate the situation for the odds to be in their favor, especially at the risk of jeopardizing the happiness of others.

But did they even consider the happiness of the Espada?

The more she reflected on the whole situation, the more she likened the Espada to marionettes being controlled by puppeteers from behind white curtains.

They were incarcerated.

They were confined to the human world.

They were forced to fight a battle that was not theirs.

They were being used.

She wanted to reject the horrible truth from her mind like it was a wound to her heart, but her powers didn't extend to that kind of damage. Her body tensed from the unfamiliar negative feeling. Not even her heart could find room to forgive such a thing. The Espada were caught between two alternatives to either give up their power or to continue on with their forced fighting for their enemy.

Either way, they would get hurt in the end.

Orihime didn't even flinch as two figures dropped down at her sides. To her left was Rukia, battered with bruises from being tossed around. To her right was Ulquiorra, blood-drenched, sweaty, breathing heavily, and clutching his profusely bleeding side.

Even so, he managed to stand tall with his head held high.

The both of them wordlessly plopped down against the same rock slab that Nel was on, just as Orihime wordlessly extended Ayame's field to them to work on their injuries. It was almost odd to see them sitting close to one another; a hollow and a Soul Reaper. Abnormal as it was, Orihime didn't focus on such distinctions.

They were both her comrades, and they needed her.

"Thank you, Orihime..." Rukia craned her head to the side to lock her lovely violet eyes on Orihime. Orihime smiled back in response, before drifting her eyes over to Ulquiorra. Even with that ever blank expression, the way his lids struggled to stay above his lusterless, dilated green eyes, she could easily see how tired he was.

All he had to do was shift his eye in acknowledgement of her, and some silent message passed between them. Neither of them really knew what it was, but they were content with it binding them for that small moment.

From the reflection in the warm orange field she could see a large group of Adjuchas approaching from the city. Rukia's eyes widened, but Orihime didn't even blink when their corpses collapsed to the ground from Nnoitra's and Halibel's assault.

Ulquiorra had an indistinct glimmer in his unreadable eyes. Orihime could see his fingertips immediately touch the black wristband on his once again broken arm.

* * *

Similarly to the last battle fought in the city after the Menos invasion, the Soul Reapers and Espada lined up across from one another in a gathering to discuss the overall results of the battle.

In other words, pointless drivel that wasted everyone's time. Starrk shamelessly let out a tired yawn to emphasize how through he was with the bullshit of the day. A few Reapers gave him dirty looks, but what could they really do? Especially since they cowered away when his cold blue eyes assaulted them. He stood in line with his brothers and sisters, all of whom at one point had been thoroughly healed by the girl. She herself was off to the side, as usual, healing the rest of the weak, easily-injured Reapers. Even the respected medical team of Squad Four watched in awe like gaping imbeciles as she worked her magic.

Really, what the hell would they do without her?

Baraggan stepped up in front of the line of Espada as their spokesman. Likewise, Captain Kuchiki, who had been called along with his squad for backup, stood for the Reapers.

"If this is how you plan to 'defend' Karakura Town from the onslaught of Menos, then your strategy needs revision." The stoic captain said. "Your performance was deplorable."

Knowing the haughty old Arrancar, the rest of the Espada, who were pissed themselves, half-expected their king to unleash a storm of fury. The beady, ashen eyes flashed with anger, but Baraggan held his head higher, and calmly responded.

"It seems as though we are unable to give our best performance in battle under the certain...restraints you have placed upon us." He matched the cold Reaper's glare. "We have already discussed this issue with the captain of Squad Ten. The compromise they have offered does not meet our standards."

"Yes." Captain Kuchiki leveled his cool gray gaze with the elder Arrancar. "We are well aware of your discontent. I believe you made a clear display of that at the last meeting."

Starrk flicked his eyes over to Grimmjow, who looked docile, aside from the tense set of his jaw.

Baraggan didn't falter. "We have no intention or interest in more violence with you Shinigami. All we ask for is that you lighten the burden placed upon us in battle. To be unable to properly execute death-"

"We don't kill-" Renji interrupted.

"-we Espada cannot efficiently assist in your battles." Baraggan concluded, completely undaunted.

Captain Kuchiki closed his eyes in contemplation before sending his gaze to survey each Espada. The solid look in his eye didn't shift even a degree through each brief inspection.

"We cannot allow any of you to defeat a hollow in battle unless your zanpakutos have been properly purified to-"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Nnoitra muttered, and racked the messy hair away from his eye.

"Don't interrupt." Renji threatened.

"Blow it out yer ass, palm top." The tall Espada brushed him off dismissively. "I'm tired of this shit. It's all dog 'n tail, with us wantin' somethin' and you bitches wanting the other."

Rukia glared up at him with contempt. "Watch your tongue."

"Care to do it for me?" He jeered, waving his tongue tattoo of the number 5. A few Arrancar stifled laughs, while Ulquiorra elbowed his side roughly.

"Enough, Nnoitra."

"Just sayin' what's real, man." Nnoitra shrugged and settled Santa Teresa on his shoulder.

"Though he isn't wrong." Szayel mentioned from below. The slightest smirk dawned on his pale lips. "It seems that this really is a circular situation. I've been involved with the recent experiments to alter our zanpakuto for your benefit," He put extra contemptuous emphasis on 'your'. "But it seems as though no scenario can satisfy both parties. That, or we can't find it."

Captain Kuchiki gave a cold glare towards the rosy-haired Espada.

"No. It seems we can't."

"So tell me something." Baraggan followed up. "How is it that you expect success without both sides reaching a favorable outcome?"

Starrk didn't miss how quiet the side of the Reapers had become. Several puny shrimps looked hopefully at their towering captain for a response, but he gave none. Even that Substitute Reaper teen looked like he was at a loss for words. Starrk could see his amber eyes directed towards his cold, green-eyed brother.

"How can we reach a compromise?" Szayel asked seriously, the mocking lilt dissipated like steam from his smooth voice.

"Or you simply plan to rake up the benefits for yourself." Aaroniero hissed in his deep, throaty voice.

The crowd of Reapers let out shouts of protest over the argument, offering no real valid points aside from furious curses and insults.

_How insightful. _Starrk thought sarcastically.

"Unless you have any proof of these 'benefits' to support your claim, I suggest you discard your argument." The captain threatened in a low voice.

"It seems simple to me."

All eyes settled on Ulquiorra at the sound of his cold voice. The man in question slipped his hands in his pockets and settled his gaze on the equally stoic Captain Kuchiki.

"It seems as though we have the lower end of the deal. You Reapers have the benefit of using our power to fight off the influx of Menos, but refuse to allow us permission to kill. Instead you end up sacrificing the health of my comrades and yours. The only way to allow us to fight is to modify our zanpakuto. None of us are willing to accept that offer."

"So then, your problems are a result of your inflexibility." Rukia added in a cold voice. "I fail to see how that blame can be attributed to us."

"That doesn't surprise me at all." Zommari said in an uncharacteristically bitter voice. "What would you Reapers understand of our predicament? You claim to want to save our souls and yet you would submit us to such a humiliating situation as to serve you. Does freedom equate to your enslavement of us? How hypocritical."

"There is no clear benefit for us in this situation." Halibel said. "With all prejudices aside, it is clear to see that the odds are controlled to be in your favor."

"No matter what alternative we choose, the advantage is skewed." Ulquiorra concluded coldly.

The crowd of Reapers, behind the safety of their precious captain, let out an uproar of protest and curses. Could they do that without their protector in front of them? Or without the Espada being at the mercy of the black bands of death constricted around their beating hearts? The damn cowards. Starrk could feel the negativity spread through the masses and reach him like a malignant virus.

This is why he hated being awake for this kind of bullshit.

"That's enough." Captain Kuchiki ordered. "This discussion has gone on long enough."

"Or it has gone past boundaries you don't want to speak of in front of your ignorant Reapers."

The air chilled from the iciness in Baraggan's words, and the jeering Reapers cowered underneath the shadow that Baraggan cast over them. The Segunda Espad seemed to loom over the Reapers, and spread fear over them like a blanket, setting them to rest like a specter of death. How ironic.

"Since we are expressing our grievances now, why not discuss everything?" The elder Arrancar asked in a bone-chilling voice.

"Yeah." Starrk stepped up to the crowd from behind the shadows of his comrades. The rest of the fleshy mass of Reapers moved back like a singular beast, cowering away from his power.

Oh yeah, this definitely felt familiar to him.

"Why don't we pour everything out?" He said quietly, even though everyone could hear him clearly He wasn't one to provoke others, but these damn Reapers were pissing him off. So why not threaten them to make them back off? It's not like he needed to try. He never tried.

"Let's discuss our final judgement." He whispered coldly as he held up the black band.

The black cloaked Reapers behind the Captain and line of lieutenants murmured in confusion, but the front line balked. Only the Captain had his features harden to stone.

Ulquiorra lifted his own wrist to show the damning band.

"Now is as good a time as any."

"For once," Nnoitra said with a serious light in his eye, as he lifted his wrist. "I agree, Ul."

"I as well." Zommari added, lifting his own arm, which was sporting a scar from the Adjucha that attacked him as he mistakenly killed another.

"Me too." Yammy growled, holding up his huge arm.

"Me three." Neliel said in a dangerously low voice, similar to when she was the ruthless Tercera Espada.

Grimmjow, who had remained silent and observant throughout the whole display of bedlam, had stepped to the front to raise his own scarred arm to the Reapers. He didn't need to say anything to inspire fear in every person on the opposite side of him.

Soon the entire line of Espada, sans Wonderwiess, was displaying their bands of incarceration like ill omens to the Death gods. Shifting from their initial puzzlement to anger, the crowd began yelling again in demand for an explanation.

"The hell's up with you damn hollows?!"

"You think that scares us?!"

"Yeah, that's right! You're ours now! That's what those bands mean!"

"How unfortunate." Baraggan grumbled. "It appears your underlings are ill-informed of the true intention of these soul bands."

Starrk surveyed the chaotic mass of Reapers and found the teen Substitute among them looking lost and bewildered in his position. His wide, amber eyes directed themselves at the Captain at the head of the Reapers, and mouthed something like,

_True intention?_

The rest of his friends, who were trying to quell the riotous mob, looked just as confused. As Starrk drifted his eyes around, he could see observant, puzzled, worried, anxious, and fearful pools of gray absorb the discord taking place in the torn city.

"Way to keep the masses in check." Starrk muttered.

"What's keeping you from telling them?" Halibel asked in an icy voice.

"Hey! The fuck are you monsters even saying?!"

"Quit messing with our Captain!"

"You think you can use terror against us?! You're under our control!"

"You shouldn't have even been taken out of Captain Kurotsuchi's lab. Just go back and be real prisoners-!"

_Slap!_

Short. Sharp. Shocking.

None of them were prepared for it. Multiple sets of eyes darted to the left of the crowd of Soul Reapers, where one had been knocked onto the floor and was clutching his reddened cheek. As his eyes traveled up, so did everyone else's, Reaper and Hollow alike.

It was like looking up directly into the sun. It almost burned their eyes too see something so furiously bright. Beautiful and blazing, but it looked down at you with enough intensity to reduce you to charred dust. At the same time, angry tears from ominous gray rain clouds shone threateningly behind the heavenly light.

Like an angel who had just delivered divine punishment.

Off to the side, Starrk heard Ulquiorra's voice murmur something in a dazed voice.

"Told you."

* * *

Shortly after the hectic meeting after the Menos invasion, Ichigo had found Kon loitering around in his body, and made the little pest go home with Rukia. After reclaiming his body, Ichigo strayed off the path of the battle site and settled near a mellow coffee shop, incidentally one of Chad's old part time jobs. The kindly old manager recognized him and friends, and often gave them discounts on drinks. They used to hang out here often after the Winter War, but things had gotten far too busy since the capture of the Espada.

He inwardly scowled at the use of the word 'capture'. It brought him back to the meeting after the Menos had been cleared out. Why was it that the 'bad guys' could always mentally screw the 'good guys' so badly? He even hated using those terms: they were so generalized.

How did he feel about the Espada? Especially after his confrontation with Ulquiorra just a week prior?

"Thanks." Ichigo gave a small smile as the owner handed him his Expresso. He took his place on a stool near the corner of the shop and gazed out at the warm sunset. School had ended quite a while ago, somewhere in the midst of battle. He'd definitely need to find an excuse for leaving lest he be branded as another skipping delinquent. Ichigo's brow twitched in irritation at his unwanted reputation, but it couldn't be helped. Hopefully Chad or Tatsuki bailed him, Orihime, and the rest of the Reapers out.

Then again, Tatsuki was probably still insanely pissed over Orihime's 'kidnapping', or whatever she said in the billions of angry texts she sent him and Orihime before the battle got really intense. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the image of Grimmjow abducting Orihime from the school grounds. Did the guy have any sense?

Scratch that.

Whatever. His childhood buddy would understand the town needing her friends to fight off the Menos. She had probably sensed the spiritual pressure of the invasion. He wondered if any of the citizens in Karakura Town had sensed the spiritual rift caused by the influx of hollows, but that wasn't likely. It kind of made him feel weird to know that he was defending his hometown without the residents ever knowing of it. Not that he was in search of any praise. He didn't really need excess gratitude for his efforts. He only did it because it was right.

And yet here he was, caught in the dilemma between right and wrong in regard to his former enemies. It seemed like everyone was choosing sides except for him. Shockingly, even Orihime was passionate about the issue.

Or just totally fed up with the nonsense that even _she _had to let out a little steam. The sound of her hitting that Reaper resonated in his head, and the tears and fury in her normally happy, gray eyes sent shivers down his spine. She had unconditionally earned his sympathy and support in her predicament in having to face her former captors as her neighbors, but Ichigo wouldn't have thought that she would harbor such strong feelings for the Espada. Well, he would expect nothing less of his caring friend other than for her to feel for every unfortunate person she met, even if they weren't the best person.

It was his awareness of Orihime's kindness that shocked him and many others of her bold lash out towards the Soul Reaper in defense of the Espada. To have their gentle princess be pushed to her boiling point was signal for the Soul Reapers to bring the argument to a close. None of them wanted to see such a sweet girl brought to wrath by their accord. Still, it had actually been kind of terrifying. Ichigo would rather repeat every life-changing battle he had ever been apart of than be the unlucky bastard that actually managed to piss off Orihime.

How did she feel about the situation? Orihime never was one to argue or oppose others in harsh way, but everyone had their opinions. She was the type of girl who wanted the best for everyone, and for there to be peace where it could be achieved, but she wasn't naive as to believe that peace could prosper anywhere. In this seemingly black and white conflict, even she had to leave the border to choose a side. One would expect that she would naturally choose her longtime comrades, but Ichigo wasn't sure about her position. If she did support the Espada even just a little bit, he wouldn't consider her a traitor; he would never say something like that about her.

If anything, he would feel disappointed in his own side, and even himself.

Sighing, he took a sip of his warm coffee and checked through messages on his phone. Yuzu was worried about him being out late, that it was dangerous, and that he better make it home for dinner (he really wondered how easily his sweet little sister could become an authoritative motherly figure); Keigo was blowing up his inbox with erratic messages on where he had disappeared off to without him; Mizuiro sent a single message asking if all was alright; Dad had sent warning texts on being out late, relinquishing the negativity of adolescence, being safe with his passions out on the streets, remembering condoms, and other dumb stuff like that.

His drooping eyes stopped at one message from a relatively new number. Before noon just today. During his heist to escape gym class. While he was on his way to the battle site.

_We need to talk later today. _

It was from Ulquiorra.

Ichigo didn't really know how to react when the Cuatra Espada asked for his cell number. Impatient as ever, the guy didn't even wait for Ichigo to recover, and simply typed his own cell number into Ichigo's phone. Tatsuki had joked that it was the only number he had gotten in his high school years, and not even from a girl.

Ichigo mulled over the message and what had been going on in Ulquiorra's head when he typed it. What did he want? Their last chat hadn't been very light-hearted, so Ichigo didn't have high hopes for this one. He read over the same six worded message a couple times before sighing.

Just six words were enough to make him anxious. Six.

_Should I call him? _He wondered as he sipped his drink.

"Gulp, gulp, gulp."

The last time he remembered spitting out a mouthful of something was when he was at a hot spring with Yoruichi. Needless to say, the experience wasn't any more fun a second time, especially with a steaming drink. Ichigo coughed and looked over his shoulder to see a smirking Grimmjow with his eyebrow arched up in amusement.

"Too hot?" He asked innocently.

"Damn you-!" Ichigo was ready for a verbal rampage, until he saw Ulquiorra approaching from behind. If he had seen the little coffee episode, he payed it no mind.

"You missed it, Ul. The guy's got great range." Grimmjow jeered with a grin. "You could use a cero with that shooting power, Kurosaki."

"Shut up." Ichigo scowled. "Don't startle me like that."

"I don't recall you being so jumpy." Ulquiorra noted coolly. "I suppose all humans are naturally skittish."

"Don't generalize us." Ichigo retorted. After straightening himself up and setting his cup at the counter, he faced his two new companions. His eyes flicked over to Ulquiorra first.

"I take it you're here for that talk." He said a little nervously.

"Correct."

Ichigo braced himself for anything, but Ulquiorra seemed hesitant to speak. An uncomfortable silence clouded above the three men. He was about to ask something himself until Ulquiorra cracked his knuckles loudly.

Grimmjow's brow furrowed. "I fucking hate when you do that."

"You do it, too." Ulquiorra muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, but it's not a freakin' omen coming from me." He threw back acidicly. The look on his face was a mix between a scowl and a grimace.

"It's no omen." Ulquiorra answered almost defensively.

"Everyone knows that you only ever do it when shit gets out of hand." Grimmjow clenched his fists and glared at Ulquiorra. "I literally felt like puking when you pulled that on me after dinner. And that's not just because of Starrk's shitty cooking."

"And how did you take the actual news after I told you?" Ulquiorra asked with a barely perceptible roll of his eyes.

"I've decided that I seriously hate you." Grimmjow muttered.

"You already do." Ulquiorra gave a tired sigh.

"Well, I said 'seriously', so it's worse now!" Grimmjow hissed. "Congrats."

Ichigo watched the interaction between the two hollows with genuine intrigue. He had always sensed an air of contempt between the two Espada during his time at Las Noches, especially after their confrontation regarding Orihime, but here they were bickering like brothers.

"Hey?" Ichigo waved a hand up to signal that he was still there. "Salt and Pepper, what's the deal?" Why are you here again?"

Both annoyed Arrancar turned their glares to him. Ichigo crossed his arms, and tapped his bicep impatiently.

"Well, Senpai?" He gestured to Ulquiorra.

The black haired Espada turned to him directly, and slipped his hands in his pockets.

"We're here to fill you in on an agreement we have reached with Squad Two in regard to Grimmjow's fighting privileges."

Ichigo arched a suspicious brow and surveyed both Espada. Ulquiorra looked uncaring, as usual, and Grimmjow looked sullen.

"Okay?" He shrugged in confusion. "Why does this concern me?"

"Why did Grimmjow lose his powers?" Ulquiorra countered.

"Fair enough." Ichigo muttered in defeat. "So what are the conditions of this 'agreement'?" He air-quoted.

"Wouldn't use that term." Grimmjow said coldly. "Not everyone 'agrees'."

Undaunted, Ulquiorra continued.

"Given that you two were the ones who started the fight at the last gathering, and that Grimmjow lost his zanpakuto for it, we've concluded that he can return to the battlefield only after a month of probation." He explained objectively.

Ichigo felt needles prickle at his neck as Ulquiorra's emotionless, emerald gaze bore into him.

"You get to play his parole officer."

Grimmjow immediately tensed at the phrase and shifted his glare out to the burnt orange sunset. Ichigo gaped at Ulquiorra, who looked apathetic as ever.

"Me?" He asked in astonishment.

Ulquiorra stared for a while until he brushed a few strands of hair out of his piercing eyes.

"Consider it an attempt to get you two to play nice with each other."

"Hating you." Grimmjow said through gritted teeth. "Hating you so much right now.

"And the Soul Society came up with this?" Ichigo asked with narrowed eyes. "Are you serious?"

"When am I not?" Ulquiorra challenged yet again.

"Does it look like I'm jumpin' for joy, Soul Reaper?" Grimmjow spat. "We both go screwed."

"Either way." Ulquiorra interrupted. "This is the only way we can have Grimmjow back on the city patrol. And we need this. Today was proof enough."

Ichigo reluctantly nodded at that known fact.

"Okay." He said. "How long will this...'parole' last?"

The rigidity in Ulquiorra's shoulders seemed to lessen a little.

"For a month." He said quietly.

Grimmjow groaned aloud, and Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a lovely next few weeks. He looked at both Espada for any hint of a a better side to this deal, but he found none. Blowing a few orange spikes out of his eyes, he slumped his shoulders and nodded his head.

"Fine then. I accept those terms." He said as he extended an open hand to Grimmjow. The Sexta Espada glared down at it distrustfully, and raised a brow.

"Well?" Ichigo asked in irritation.

"Well, what?" Grimmjow asked, sounding completely lost.

"You're supposed to shake his hand." Ulquiorra answered with a slight sigh. "It means to close a deal."

"Like hell I'm touchin' his sweaty-ass hands." Grimmjow said defiantly.

"How do you even know that they're-!" Ichigo began, but stopped and took a deep breath. "Never mind." He muttered in annoyance and settled his arm back at his side.

"We done here?" Grimmjow looked over at Ulquiorra, who only nodded his head. "Good. I'd like to mark an end to this shitty day."

He turned on his heel to walk down the sidewalk. As he passed Ulquiorra, the Cuatra Espada let out a few final words that made him stop only for a moment.

"At least you have Pantera back."

With that, Grimmjow disappeared behind a street corner, and Ichigo was left alone yet again with the aloof Cuatra Espada. They stood in another awkward silence until Ichigo couldn't take it anymore.

"You're not gonna go with him? You know, make sure he doesn't level the city?" He flicked his amber eyes over to his stoic companion. Ulquiorra gave a half-hearted shrug.

"He's not my responsibility."

"I guess, but you are kinda the leader guy, right? Or does Baraggan fill that position?"

"We have no established leader." Ulquiorra replied as he leaned against a wall. "Not anymore, anyway."

Why was it that whatever the guy said always put Ichigo in a painfully awkward position?

"I see..." He replied quietly as he sipped his now lukewarm coffee. He stole glances at Ulquiorra, but he was just...there. The way his eyes were closed made it seem like he was either deep in thought or asleep. Either way, Ichigo wasn't eager to disturb him and face the consequences just to find out. The latter thought amused him, though. It had never occurred to him that hollows could sleep, but according to Nel, even they needed their rest. Considering the recent hollow attacks, combined with the charitable bulk of schoolwork, Ichigo had lost a considerable amount of sleep for the past few weeks. He could only imagine how tired the Espada were with their exhausting shifts for city patrol.

Great, there was that lingering guilt again. Ichigo thought back to the display the Espada had put on before the Reapers after the discussion on the whole zanpakuto issue. He couldn't disagree with them that it really was a never-ending argument with tipped scales, but he never imagined that he'd feel so bad about.

Even now, he felt like a total jerk for thinking so, but he considered the outcome just and reasonable for both parties, especially after what the Arrancar had done to Orihime and the other Reapers.

But then he remembered that they were only following orders under that son of a bitch Aizen. If anything, they really had gotten screwed in this whole deal. Ichigo wanted to believe that the Soul Society could handle their problem, but it seemed like even they were going about it the wrong way because of prejudice.

_Way to be the stand for judgement. _He thought bitterly.

Another thing bothered him. He snuck a quick glance at the black band that encircled Ulquiorra's contrastingly pale wrist. Ichigo never missed how he toyed with the wristband distractedly, almost childishly. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about those bands, or 'prison bracelets', as Grimmjow had dubbed them. The research division proposed them for security measures, and they were widely supported by members of Squad Eleven. Ichigo didn't think that any identification was required for the Espada, given how...distinctive they were, but something in the back of his mind made him suspicious of the true intention behind those black bands. Everytime he saw Ulquiorra look at it, there was an unrecognizable glimmer in his unreadable eyes.

"Couldn't you observe me in a more sophisticated manner?" Ulquiorra suddenly said. The action didn't startle Ichigo nearly as much as when he and Grimmjow had first arrived, but it still sent a jolt through him.

"You have no right to speak of sophistication when you're out sleeping in an urban town square." Ichigo replied calmly as he finished the last of his coffee. He hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten. Street lights provided artificial light in absence of the shining sun. Ulquiorra revealed those gloomy, slitted eyes of his, and gave a sideways glance to Ichigo.

"I wasn't sleeping. Only thinking."

"Then that makes two of us." Ichigo responded as he threw his cup away in nearby trash bin. He was thinking of leaving, but then he turned his head back to the black-haired hollow on the stool next to his.

"Hey, Ulquiorra."

He didn't know what exactly prompted him to call out to his former enemy, nor did he know what was to come as a response. What could he say if he indeed was faced with a response? There were so many things he could ask Ulquiorra, and now would be a good time to take advantage of the knowledgeable Espada.

What can be done about the whole zanpakuto issue?

What is it that the Espada really want in this whole situation?

How can we manage the issue with the Garganta?

What would happen if we go to Hueco Mundo to find the source of the hollow numbers?

Would it be better if we went out separate ways and let you guys stay in Hueco Mundo?

Why do you guys hate those bands so much?

What's really going on in this 'internment' you guys are always talking about?

Can we really trust you guys?

Did you talk with Orihime afterward?

How do you feel about Orihime?

How do you feel about me?

He felt like some annoying kid with all of the questions swirling like a cyclone inside his head. Even so, he wanted answers to all of them, even if Ulquiorra couldn't provide them. Some confused part of him just wanted to ask and let the curiosity out, and maybe have Ulquiorra give those straight, point-blank, and sincere answers that always managed to alter his beliefs, and drive him to the bare truth.

He wanted to, but the guy looked way too tired to deal with anything else at the end of this turbulent day.

Ulquiorra gave another half-lidded, sideways glance.

"What?"

Ichigo slipped his wallet out of his pocket, and settled for one question that seemed suited above the others.

"How do you take your coffee?"

* * *

**A/N: So what do guys think? Sorry for lack of Ulquihime romance in this one, but there is way more to come, so keep up your support! **

**And once again, Ichigo is a pain for me to write with, but we love him nonetheless. Hopefully he redeemed himself in this chapter.**

**Bye! Please r****eview! **


	7. Chapter 7: Rhapsody

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 7: Rhapsody

* * *

**A/N: A pretty mellow chapter. Longest one yet! Hope you guys enjoy it! **

**In regard to one of the questions that was asked in the reviews, I figured I'd answer for anyone else who was wondering: I am actually writing the story as I publish it. I have not pre-written any chapters, nor have I done any indepth planning. Each chapter is just a random continuation that starts from whatever scene I please. **

**...That's the bare truth, lol. I'm hoping to update a little faster once school ends and summer starts. Thank you for your support!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

Perhaps it was simply his natural bodily rhythm that prompted him to awaken at such detestable hours, but Baraggan could never manage to sleep in any later than as the sun leaked out from the extensive horizon, and spilled its light to dye the skies a pale periwinkle. His body arose in sync with the awakened day, and he removed himself from the house as quietly as death, so as to not awaken any of the rest of the Espada. Here he was behind the bars of the balcony, staring out at the luminated, amythest clouds, and engaging in a newly acquired pastime: smoking.

He exhaled slowly, and watched how the gray and white smoke lazily wisped out into the air like the tinted clouds above.

Baraggan rarely engaged in any activity even remotely akin to that of a human that wasn't a basic survival mechanism. The old hollow king found the race to be an abhorrent one. It was only until after leaving the life of the living that a person could understand the true horrors of the human nature. All of the trifles of life were meaningless after death, so he was naturally inclined to oppose all things associated with humans.

Being trapped in this cage of a town had forced him and his fellow Espada to utilize new human innovations, such as a motor vehicle, for the purpose of adapting to their new environment.

It was odd calling the land of the living 'new', considering they had all been previously conceived upon its lands, and had remained there for quite some time, though not nearly for as long as their ghostly existence in Hueco Mundo. The sense of living, truly living among those with souls, had too been ripped away from hollows, and grasped within the clutches of death. The forced, second experience wasn't nearly as exhilarating to a soulless being.

This was especially true to the King of Hollows. Ever since Aizen's death, Baraggan claimed that his title as the ruler of the Hueco Mundo had been rightfully restored to him. Even if Starrk was a rank in power higher than Baraggan, that need not matter. Raw power does not entail any qualification for being a ruler. A true king must not only be strong, but keen, experienced, and aware of the abstrusity of the world that envelops him and his subjects. From what he knew of the other Arrancar, none had remained in Hueco Mundo for as long as he. None had so carefully as he, taken in the lost memories of the countless devoured souls and hollows alike.

Through his beginning struggle as a creature denied the light of divinity, Baraggan had refused to lose the thin thread that connected him to life, so he strengthened the chain with the souls of the dead. Prey after prey, he absorbed each lost life, saw glimpses of their past lives and turmoils, and learned. He regained the initial sense of humanity.

And he shunned it.

Humans, indulgent of their resources, traitors to their beliefs, ignorant of their capacity for evil, sickened him. They had all that he and his fellow hollows had been deprived of, and yet they waste it away on small trifles, and fail to appreciate it until it is far too late, when they are far too withered, and far too engorged with the matters of life to go back and change their ways. They may only truly understand the value of what they have until it is lost: that is the cruel humor of death.

Baraggan watched as the white paper of the cigarette was slowly consumed by the mouth of fire like the prey of a serpent, leaving nothing but ash in it's wake. The crumbled, gray end broke off in pieces, and left ghostly smoke to rise from the ashes.

To have to rely on such weak creatures for survival was almost humiliating, but he had no choice. Devouring them was all that completed him.

Yet that wasn't enough either.

He kept preying upon the weak to have some, any connection to the life that was once his. He hated the living and their ignorance, yet he thrived upon their melancholy to continue his own torturous search for that which was theirs, and that which he could never reclaim.

Hypocrisy at its finest.

Some part of him was cognizant of his flawed beliefs, but that part had withered to something depraved and dysfunctional, much like the last age of man. He believed that he had seen enough human memories from the souls he had devoured, but being confined to their world, and forced to see them everyday had been far more different than he had thought. This concept didn't apply to the Soul Reapers, since they were also dead, but they still had their hearts.

He despised _them_ even more. To have taken him and his Espada away from their sanctuary in the land they were content with was baleful enough, but to place them under arrest and lock them in a world full of humans was no doubt some poetic justice on their part.

Trapping hollows like him in a world where they were so close to what they had been yearning for after death, and now hated so passionately that it brought them more anguish, was a punishment executed with exquisite barbarity befitted for a tyrant.

He almost wanted to applaud the Reapers.

He inhaled the last of the burning fumes before tossing the cigarette into the nearby disposal bin. The sun had barely risen out further from its resting site, but Baraggan knew it was time to retire to the house. He took one last thoughtful glance out at the barren streets, and envisioned them being polluted by the presence of the rotten, mocking beings he and the Espada were forced to be imprisoned with.

Interacting with humans was regrettable, but it could not be avoided. What he truly abhorred was the idea of bonding with any of them. Useless attachments were only burdens that would drag one into misery until the chain was broken. Hollows by nature were not acquainted with such intimacy, but that didn't mean that it was impossible.

His worry was especially directed towards the Cuatra Espada. How darkly ironic was it that the hollow most deprived of the light of the heart had been swept away by the compassion of a human girl.

The old king held no skepticism in regard to the bond between Ulquiorra and the girl. Her feelings for her previous captor were obvious. Ulquiorra was a far more complex case that any of the Espada had yet to figure out, but it seemed as if the human girl could come the closest to doing so; that, or she would be the only person he would allow to come so near to the precious pulse in his chest.

There.

That place they all thought to be empty since death, to have nothing but a gaping hole, to represent the truth of being 'hollow'. It was there where she had left a permanent mark. An ailment that she had inflicted upon him, and that not even she could heal with her own godly power.

These kinds of bonds are what cause more destruction than the sword of a warrior. This was the kind of powerful force that could not be fought in the way they were accustomed to. For the first time since long ago, Baraggan felt fear. If Ulquiorra were to lose himself, the Espada would lose an ally.

That wasn't all. The true fear that encompassed his worry over the Cuatra Espada was where exactly the feeling was coming from. The idea of thinking of considering his comrades was foreign to him. They were all self-sufficient. None of them were bonded to one another. They had simply been united under Aizen's singular rule. They were only connected by their fragile concept of the word 'comrade'. Perhaps it was the risk of their survival as a group that made that made that vague sense of unity just a bit stronger.

At least, that's what he assumed.

He turned his back on the lightening, pale sky, and returned to the luxurious decor of Casa Espada. He was about to make way to his room, until the kitchen door opened to reveal Starrk. There was their Primera Espada, straight from bed with messy hair, drooping eyes, with his powerful form hidden underneath gray sweatpants and a plain white tee.

Despite the intense spiritual pressure radiating from him, he looked as human as could be. In his hand was an opened carton of milk. His half-asleep, blue-grey eyes traveled up to meet Baraggan's.

"That's a first." Baraggan said. "Awake at dawn?"

"Needed a drink." He mumbled in a sleepy daze.

"We'll need a new carton now." The elderly Arrancar grumbled chidingly.

Starrk waved a dismissive hand. "Ul bought, like, three extra last night."

"You shouldn't rely so much on his efficiency." Baraggan said sternly. "You'll only get lazier."

"I don't rely on anyone." He replied plainly. "I'm the one bringing in extra income. I don't think you've looked much into the work force."

"I wouldn't associate myself with these humans." Baraggan uttered in disgust. "I've been busying myself with negotiations."

"Yes, as our spokesman, or business negotiate." Starrk muttered. "Ul and Nel are our errand runners. Tia and Zommari are nannies. Aaroniero and Szayel are the research and development division. The rest are muscle-heads."

It was almost infuriating how flawlessly accurate he was. He downed another drink from the carton and then offered a conclusive look that asked,

_Anything else? _

"I suppose you need something to wash out the taste from your failed cooking experiment last night." Baraggan grumbled.

"You all brought it upon yourself when you put the kitchen bitch apron on me." Starrk informed unabashedly. "Likewise, I await the great end results of your turn tonight."

The old Arrancar gave his younger comrade a hard look before settling down in the armchair near the white-curtained window. The light that invaded through the thin fabric of the curtains highlighted the scars on his aged eyes. Starrk dumped the carton in the trash bin to the side and plopped onto the sofa near Baraggan.

"Wouldn't it be better to sleep on your own bed?" Asked the Segunda Espada in irritation.

The Primera shrugged against the plush cushions.

"You know me. Too lazy."

"As always."

Baraggan looked up to their clock. 5:56 a.m. Not until another few hours would the rest of the Espada awaken. At least he would have some peace before then. His eyes drifted over to their Primera, but he wasn't fast asleep as he expected. Instead, his tired eyes seemed to study the blank ceiling like those of a distracted child.

"Hey, spokesman."

Baraggan shifted in the chair to face Starrk. "What?"

"How do you think our standings with the Reapers are after yesterday?"

"What are you asking?"

"Think we're any more loved?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Baraggan grunted at the memory of last night's confrontation with their 'allies'. As expected, tensions arose at the mention of the soul bands, and the mob of feckless imbeciles didn't even know what it was rioting against.

_Hmph. A true tyrant knows how to manipulate the masses. _

"I'm not sure what any of them think. I would assume they saw it as a simple act of defiance. The captain is a far more threatening issue."

"We almost blew our cover." Starrk said in dull voice.

"Starting with your demonstration." Baraggan added. There hadn't been any spite in his voice. He was simply stating a truth. Starrk's unexpected involvement in provoking the shaking Reapers had caused the lower level Espada to mimic his actions.

"Never would have thought you to be someone who riles up a crowd." He continued.

The younger Espada shrugged again, but a subtle sheen of remembrance lit up his foggy eyes.

"I'll admit, it was a dangerous gamble." Baraggan said in an empty voice. There was no point in scolding the man now. What happened has no way of undoing itself, and Baraggan had no regrets. "I don't regret it, but the bastards could have used that lethal 'final judgement' of theirs."

"I seriously doubt they'd do it."

The response was crisp and unworried. Slightly interested, Baraggan prodded him to elaborate. Starrk merely brush a lone strand of coffee brown hair off of his cheek.

"If they do, who'll fight for them?"

Baraggan balked as the slightest smirk teased the corner of his mouth.

"They'd have an angry red head on their hands too."

Given yesterday's abrupt departure from the bedlam, Baraggan had a feeling Starrk wasn't talking about the Kurosaki boy.

* * *

"So you put his ass in his place? Nice going. Pass the purple."

Orihime sighed and complied with Tatsuki's request, selecting a light shade of lavender from her bag of colored pencils.

Art class was tranquil as usual. It really benefited the students for having it at the end of the day, after all of the far more arduous classes were dealt with in the morning (including the one with a certain non-human, and surprisingly strict, sleepy-eyed teacher). Orihime was content with being able to wind down in the final few hours of school with her friends and her favorite subject, but she wasn't in a particularly pleasant mood as of yesterday.

The topic of discussion between her and Tatsuki only served to further submerge her beneath the heavy blues, and not just the ones of her friend's masterful display of the arising dawn from underwater.

"Guess those training sessions proved good for something." Tatsuki gave a light shrug.

"I didn't mean to." Orihime mumbled. "I just got really..."

"Mad?" Tatsuki offered. "Yeah, that happens to us normal people, Orihime. Congrats on releasing the inner beast."

"I didn't like it." Orihime sighed defeatedly. She had no idea what snapped inside her yesterday, but the one Soul Reaper's words drove her over the edge into a pit of vengeful vipers. Her capacity for forgiveness was depleted upon hearing the repugnant things certain Reapers were saying to the Espada. Such hostilities were what fed the fires of discord that engulfed the Reapers, and even her own friends with prejudice against the Arrancar.

That problematic debate had surfaced yet again from the masses yesterday, but this time, the display of opposition from the Espada was nonviolent.

Something that was atypical and even more threatening.

The way they all raised their bare arms to show the soul bands, seemed to repel the normally aloof Captain Byakuya. What was it about those black bands that inspired so much acrimony in the already bitter Espada? There were times when her eyes would follow Ulquiorra's whenever he flicked his eyes to the strip of condemning, deep black. She didn't know what it was, but the strange lack of light that appeared in those reflective, emerald eyes of his everytime he looked at those bands made a stinging sensation spread through her.

"I really don't like that feeling." She repeated in an even softer voice.

"Not many of us do." Tatsuki said gently, as she judged the color on her illusory sketch. She frowned at the choice. "Got a darker shade?"

Orihime handed her another mauve hue that she immediately took and focused on highlighting the edges with. For someone so rough 'n tough in their mannerisms, Tatsuki had quite the steady hand for her art. Despite not being traditionally feminine, she made the loveliest pieces from softest colors.

"Drawing usually helps calm you, right?" Tatsuki asked after blowing away excess colored dust from the pencils. She brought her smiling brown eyes up to Orihime.

"Try spilling those bottled up feelings out on paper."

Orihime laced her fingers and bit the edge of her lip.

"I don't know. All I've been able to focus on are dancing mushrooms."

"Yeah...let's try something outside of your fungi zone." Tatsuki said with a quiet laugh.

"But they look so cute." Orihime allowed herself a small smile. "Besides I don't think I can make anything as nice as your work, Tatsuki."

"Don't worry about making something pretty." Tatsuki tweeked her nose playfully. "You put your emotions into your art. Emotion is something raw. It's not about what it looks like, it's about how it makes you feel."

Orihime listened intently to her friend's suddenly spiritual counseling.

"What I'm feeling right now isn't very nice..."

"I would assume so." Tatsuki grimaced. "It's not often you fly off the handle like that."

"That's what I was thinking." Orihime confirmed by nodding her head. "I don't like getting all mad like that. My breath hitches, I start shaking, and my heart goes out of control. Everything is off balance, like I'm about to fall of the edge." She concluded with a sad murmur. Towards the end her voice teetered down to a weak pitch. Was this what everyone else felt? Her heart sank upon remembering the fury on each Espada's face last night.

Tatsuki nodded and patted Orihime's arm gently.

"Yeah, that's usually how it goes." She said with a sad laugh. "But, hey. What can you do?"

"I didn't have to feed the flames like that, though." Orihime said as she tinted the front of the truffle she was decorating in her sketchbook.

"If anything, you put them out with that surprise smack." Tatsuki said with an arched brow. "Besides, don't you dare feel guilty about it. You have every right to feel angry and express it."

Orihime blinked her confused gray eyes at her suddenly adamant best friend.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you can't go around being so forgiving all the time." Tatsuki scolded with her hands on her hips. "It's not a bad thing by any means, but sometimes you gotta stand up for yourself, and others too."

"Yeah, but..." Orihime faltered, twirling her hair distractedly to avoid her friend's intense stare. "There are more peaceful ways to do that."

Tatsuki heaved out a quiet sigh.

"Yeah, I know, Princess. Peace only goes so far, though. Actions say a lot more than words. Way I see it, you weren't in the wrong. You feel strongly about the situation, right? You told me that you feel for them, right?"

Orihime nodded dazedly. Tatsuki's hand found her shoulder, and her warm eyes gleamed like brown topaz.

"All you did was show it. And I'm proud of you for that."

Their glimmering gazes embraced each other until a smile finally found it's way to Orihime's lips. She nodded confidently, and let the smile spread into a full grin.

"There're those pearly whites." Tatsuki gave her own smile as she clapped Orihime's shoulder. The auburn haired girl let out a light laugh.

"Thanks Tatsuki. You really know how to make someone feel better." Orihime said as she hugged her friend's shoulders.

"It's all from years of experience with our other needy, ginger friend." Tatsuki smirked as she spread a few dusty bits of darker blues on the borders of her paper with her fingers. A small wad of paper hit and bounced off of the side of her temple

"I heard that."

The two girls turned their heads over to the open door, where Ichigo and Uryu were standing. Ichigo's arms were crossed, just like his expression. Tatsuki tossed a few other crumbled pieces at him playfully.

"I bet you hear a lot of things while standing like creeps outside the girls' art room." She said as she flipped her hair.

"Shut up." He muttered. "We were on our way to the gates since the bell is going to ring soon."

"Sensei let you out early?" Orihime asked curiously.

Ichigo's furrowed brow faltered slightly upon seeing Orihime, but he kept his voice even.

"Sorta. I actually have some plans after school."

"My father called me out on an early release." Uryu said.

"I can't make it to our session after school Tatsuki." Ichigo said almost guiltily. "Sorry."

"You're bailing on me for karate practice?" Tatsuki asked suspiciously. "For what?"

"I'm not bailing." He said defensively." I just have to...for, uh, you know, um..."

"No, I don't know." Tatsuki said plainly.

"You don't have to give an indepth answer." Uryu said as he adjusted his glasses. "With those refined lying skills, I can only wonder how the whole school doesn't know of your secrets."

"Well, I don't make lying a habit like other people." Ichigo scowled at the spectacled teen.

"I never said it was a habit." Uryu shot back.

"Well, gee. How can I tell if that's a-"

"Shh!" The girls' sensei shot a glare at the two boys. "Don't disrupt the girls from their creative journey. If you must leave, then wait at the gates as you said you would.

"Sorry sensei..." They mumbled as they backed out of the doorway. Orihime waved goodbye to her friends as they left the halls to get to the school gates.

"Okay girls!" Their sensei flashed a large, toothy smile their way. "Let's wrap up today's work and return the supplies. Tonight's homework is to find a muse that inspires you. Sometimes the most obscure things entice strong feelings. I wanna see those feelings in your sketchbook. Due next week."

The bell rand perfectly in sync with her final words. Tatsuki and Orihime slipped out of the huddled crowd of students escaping from the school.

"Sometimes I wonder if sensei has telepathy." Tatsuki muttered to herself. Orihime laughed in response.

"I guess that's how she knew you were faking being sick for day when we had to present sculptures."

"Ugh. It's really not my strong suit." She crinkled her nose at the memory of her failed attempt to create a bust of her mother. It came out more like a deformed version of Roman art. "Guess, I can cross sculptor off the career path."

"Don't forget actress." Orihime teased lightly.

"Whatever." Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "Guess we can finally see those feelings of yours let loose with ink. Or you still gonna settle for the mushrooms?"

"No." Orihime giggled as she shook her head. "I'll search for whatever happens to inspire me. I guess that means I should bring my sketchbook wherever I go."

"That'll be a pain." Tatsuki sighed.

"Well, maybe you'll find inspiration quick." Orihime encouraged with a smile. "Like what you were drawing today. Where did that come from?"

Tatsuki let one of her small, wistful smiles tug at the corner of her lips. Her cocoa brown eyes flew up to the cloudless, azure skies.

"The sky at sunrise was gorgeous."

Soon Orihime reached the steps of her apartment building, and bid her friend goodbye as she climbed them up to apartment. The door next over was not only intact, but the inside was quiet, so she assumed the Espada were out on patrol.

Just as the feeling of dread slithered around her, she shook her head resolutely. She would not feel bad for what she did. Tatsuki was right. Orihime had every right to feel the way she did and express it.

But she could have been gentler...

_I'm so hopeless, Tatsuki. _She thought with a sheepish smile.

Bringing out her keys, she unlocked the door to her apartment, stepped inside her warm home, and closed the door safely behind her. A small smile danced on her lips as she remembered the countless loud crashes from the plight of her neighbors' poor door whenever Ulquiorra forgot his keys, and used his burglar's method to break into his own home.

_I guess even someone like him can be forgetful. _

He certainly had changed since his days as an Espada under Aizen. Undoubtedly, he was still serious, analytic, and intimidating as ever, but something had changed. Orihime made the miniscule observation that, whenever the two of them had accidentally brushed up against each other, or touched in any unintended way, before she flinched away in a flustered mess, she felt that he wasnt as cold as before. At first she attributed it to the gigai, but slowly as she spent a little more time with him, his aura wasn't like that of an ice cap anymore. There were times when the glacial look in his eyes really seemed to have thawed out.

Like when they walked home together just a week prior, and reached out to each other a second time. They weren't separated by ashes that time. The rain seemed to have pulled them together. Closer and closer until...

They finally met each other.

Orihime covered her blushing face in memory of their little moment. It was those fractional moments with her former captor that left her breathless and flustered in his wake, for some inexplicable reason. Whenever the coldness in his eyes melted, so did she.

_Why do you always look at me like that? _

Truthfully, it surprised her how much the Espada had collectively changed as a whole. From being the violent and cold captors that held her prisoner in the hollow world, they seemed to have mellowed down to a struggling group trying to make the best of their drawback.

Kind of like a family.

Perhaps 'mellowed' wasn't the right word. She could still remember when she and her friends were called upon to see the captured hollows in Squad Eight's headquarters. It came as a shock to everyone when Orihime was the first to jump on the opportunity. Her friends then insisted on accompanying her to ensure her safety from her former captors. On their way, they had heard terrible things being said: curses to the Arrancar, crude terms, and black humor in regard to their incarceration. When they reached the lab rooms, it turned out her friends did not have to worry about her; none of the Espada were awake at the time. They were all hooked up to machines to keep them alive after the agonizing experimentation. They each wore collars that restrained their rieatsu; cuts, bruises, and deep gashes peppered their weakened bodies; each of them had completely lost the remnants of their masks; the soul bands were already on them to prove their imprisonment.

The one thing that truly horrified Orihime was the numbers that they were assigned in place of their actual names. The numbers corresponded with their ranks, but they were more like labels than names. To remove a name is to lose an identity.

All in all, the way they were treated was inhumane.

All because they weren't human.

_But that's not their fault...!_

Orihime rubbed her temples at the feeling of an upcoming headache. She sighed and dropped her school bag at the foot of her bed, and lay on her soft mattress. The sunlight that peeked out from her curtains blanketed her with warmth, but did little to comfort her. She wanted to close her eyes to forget the bad memories and escape reality, but instead they were exposed to the dark insides of her mind.

The sight that nearly fractured her heart was Ulquiorra. He, like the others, had been asleep. She had only seen the emotionless Espada sleep once, on accident in her room as he waited for her to finish eating. At that time, she had no idea how to react other than to let him peacefully wait out his extended slumber. She had no idea that hollows could sleep like humans, so she couldn't help but observe him. Back in her room at Las Noches, he slept in tranquility: there was still no traceable expression revealed on his face, but his features and muscles were relaxed, as opposed to their usual tense set.

It may be absurd, but the fact that he seemed to be at peace just for that moment relieved her.

She did not feel that way when she saw him laying in the hospital bed with the rest of his comrades. There, he looked exhausted, broken, and battered like an abused animal. The Soul Reapers couldn't understand, but her friends remained silent as the tears spilled from her watery, diamond eyes.

Back in Hueco Mundo, in a world void of color other than black and white, Ulquiorra's eyes, his piercing, slitted eyes, were all that comforted her. No matter how lifeless and lightless they seemed, that glorious green was the only brightness there for her. Just once she wanted those eyes to light up and chase away the darkness that enveloped him. Just once they did, right when he was disappearing from her.

That day when she cried over him, all she wanted was to see those glassy, emerald eyes open, and to melt into their beautiful trance.

Her sketchbook had been in her hand as she plopped onto her bed, so it lay settled next her head on her pillow.

_"Sometimes the most obscure things entice strong feelings."_

She propped herself up on her elbows and opened the book up to a blank white page.

_"Try spilling those bottled up feelings out on paper."_

Warm light kissed the nape of her neck as she reached for her bag. After some time, she selected three perfect colors for her piece.

_"How do you 'love' something that isn't alive?" _

She took a deep, filling breath to tame her sporadic heart, before furiously staining the virgin white with streaks of incandescent green.

* * *

The roaming hollow's roar reverberated in the city, but was unheard by any living soul. It's cry of melancholy that echoed under the heavy rain went ignored by all except the Soul Reaper fast approaching behind it.

Well, substitute Soul Reaper, anyway.

Ichigo's grip on Zangetsu tightened as he leapt from the nearby building, and swung full force to fracture the hollow mask. It's black blood tinted red as it stained his steel blade. Before the beast fell, it's body gleamed white, and scattered into a myriad of fractured pieces of light.

Before they dissipated into the air to reach the Soul Society, he heard the voice of a small child. A boy.

_"Thank you."_

Ichigo released a heavy breath and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Rest in peace." He whispered in the rain.

"Yo, Soul Reaper."

Just like the departed soul, the serenity had scattered away from the impact of Grimmjow's sharp voice. Ichigo reflexively scowled at the sound.

"What is it-?" He began, but stopped short as he turned his head. To be fair, what was he supposed to say as Grimmjow Jeagerjaques approached, carrying a limp hollow above his head with one arm? The shadow from the huge creature's form spilled over the ireful-looking man, until he unceremoniously dropped it onto the soaked asphalt with an earth-shaking thud.

"Work your magic." The blue-haired Espada muttered as he crossed his arms.

"R-right." Ichigo said as he regained his composure. With a single strike, he sliced the thick mask and watched as the spirit was purified and sent off to a peaceful rest. No matter how long he'd been a Soul Reaper, these ethereal moments always settled a calming spell on him.

Up until he felt a hard set of knuckles thrash the side of his head.

"Don't get all teary-eyed, you pansy." Grimmjow muttered in a disgusted voice.

Fighting off his natural inclination to throw a punch himself, Ichigo zipped his lips and rubbed the spot where he had been hit. Luckily, the super-powered Arrancar hadn't been serious, otherwise Ichigo would end up like the convertible that had gotten in their way just a few blocks earlier.

"Whatever." He eventually said back. "I don't sense anymore, and it's past the time the Garganta usually opens up. I think we're done for the day."

"You wish." Grimmjow snorted.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a patrol, Copper Top." The Sexta Espada glared. "We don't get off until we're told to."

"Okay." He responded through clenched teeth. "How long do these patrols usually last?"

"Until nightfall."

Ichigo let out a frustrated sigh, and set Zangetsu over his shoulders.

_Great, just damn great. I have a test to study for tomorrow and another chapter to read for economics. Dad's gonna kill me if I break past curfew. To top it all off, I have to spend another two hours in the pouring rain with this son of a..._

"Fine." Ichigo muttered and continued walking around the block. When he didn't hear footsteps echo his own, he looked back to find Grimmjow, annoyingly, rooted to his spot under the gray rain clouds.

"You comin' or what?" Ichigo called out.

The Espada's oddly serene expression hardened into a look of malice that he directed at Ichigo.

"And follow you around like some police dog? Fuck off."

He grit his teeth so ferociously, his jaw ached. Ichigo made a mental note to bring a mouth guard any time he was around this blue-headed psycho.

"Look." He said as calmly as he was capable of being. "The deal was that we work together as 'partners'. You and I can both agree that the Soul Society just wants me to babysit you so you can fight with the rest of the Espada. So quit playing the baby and cooperate with me-"

"Watch it, Kurosaki." Grimmjow threatened.

"We're both adults, right?" Ichigo continued a little less scathingly. "Let's _act_ like it."

Even through the thick wall of rain drops that divided them, Grimmjow's feline, sapphire eyes stuck like knives on him. After an intense stared down, the Sexta Espada withdrew and stalked passed Ichigo in a few quick strides.

"You're just a fucking kid."

"Look, neither of us want to fight again and get in trouble, okay?" Ichigo said in exasperation.

"What's the big deal? Your girlfriend can heal the both of us even if we incinerate each other, right?"

"That's not the point, and don't bring her into this." Ichigo warned. On a side note, he mumbled in a weaker voice, "She's not my girlfriend..."

"Didn't hear you. What was that lover boy?" He taunted

"She's just my friend." Ichigo said louder and in an angrier voice. "And I already told Ulquiorra what I'd do to all of you if you mess with her."

"Why not tell me?" He challenged with a malicious grin. "Tell me my future, Copperfield. Tell me how much worse you're gonna make mine and my friends' problems with your little Soul Reaper powers. We'd really appreciate the warning."

Ichigo's glare faltered with each word he said, just as Grimmjow's voice grew louder and more cantankerous. The Espada arched a brow impatiently.

"Well?"

Ichigo felt his shoulders drop in defeat.

"I can't tell the future."

"Figures." Grimmjow muttered with a scowl. "You're just another pawn in their fucking game."

"I didn't want this to happen!" Ichigo yelled, unable to hold back the fury, the guilt, the frustration at being unable to do anything. "I don't have any part in this! I don't know what you want from me! You think I'm some prison guard trying to make you miserable for my pleasure?! I am _not_ the kinda monster you are!"

His lungs burned from the outburst and he was shaking from the anger and the cold. Throughout his whole shouting episode, Grimmjow didn't even bat an eye. He just stared with that same contemptuous glare.

"No, you're not." He said in a low voice. "At least I'm my own person."

With that, he turned away and walked down to the next block.

Ichigo's breathing was heavy and every part of his body was stinging like it had been injected with poison. He brought his hand to his tight brow and exhaled deeply. His forehead was burning up. Grimmjow was already two blocks ahead of him. He could just leave and let the bastard finish out the patrol by himself. He could leave before he caught a freaking cold out in this weather or before he strangled Grimmjow; whichever came first. He could leave and take whatever punishment the Soul Society had for him. Nothing could be worse than this bullshit.

Nothing but increased resentment between the Reapers and Arrancar. Nothing but more pointless violence. Nothing but more pain for Orihime.

_"You're just a fucking kid."_

"Don't remind me." He said to himself.

With a deep breath, Ichigo reluctantly followed in wake of his tempestuous partner.

Unbeknownst to either men, they were being watched by a petite little figure on a building top with a Chappy the Rabbit umbrella.

Rukia watched as the two heads of blue and orange trekked through the city under the thunderous gray skies.

_Stay strong, Ichigo. You're not a monster._

* * *

The rain had come from nowhere. Orihime watched as water treaded down in slow, sad paths down her window. She smiled at the depressed world from behind the wet glass panes in front of her desk.

"Just a little longer." She said encouragingly. "The sky will clear up soon."

She adjusted the lamp to focus more on her economics textbook. Just two more pages and her homework would be completed. Luckily, she, unlike other students, hadn't fallen asleep during sensei's lecture, so she had an easy time understanding the chapter, though there were a few concepts she was hazy about. She vaguely wondered if Starrk could explain it to her better, but then she abandoned the thought. She didn't want to overburden the lax Espada; balancing a teaching job and protecting the city at the same time must have been draining for him, even if he was superior in mind and body.

_How does he manage all of that? _

Perhaps Ulquiorra or the other Espada helped with grading papers and other teacherly stuff. The comical image of Ulquiorra meticulously reading through student essays and writing his own harsh feedback elicited a giggle from her.

_He'd be pretty strict. _

The thought of the Cuatra Espada made her eyes flick over to her closed sketchbook, laid out like a seductive lover on the edge of her bed. It called out to her like a simpering Siren, begging her to finish what she started inside of it. Orihime shook her head adamantly. She had other work to do, and if she spent too much time with her art, she would get obsessively absorbed in trying to finish it.

It's an artist thing.

She was about to turn back to her textbook, until she heard a light knock at her door. Her wide eyes glanced up to the white door.

_Someone at this hour? _

"Hello-?"

She barely had time to finish her greeting before she was swept up in a haze of shiny turquoise.

"Hi Hime!" Nel locked her arms around Orihime with a smile.

"Oh!" Orihime managed to utter out in a mix of surprise, delight, and breathlessness. "Hey Nel! What a surprise."

"Yeah, we wanted to come visit!" The greenette said happily.

_We...? _

Orihime lifted her head above the lustrous green locks of Nel's hair to find another lustrous green watching the both of them from the balcony rails.

"Ulquiorra...?" She said in a daze.

Calm as ever, he only slightly nodded in acknowledgement.

"We just finished our patrol." Nel explained as she settled Orihime down. "We were all coming home, but I wanted to visit you."

"Aww, thanks." Orihime laughed. "You should get inside, the rain is pretty heavy."

"Yeah!" Nel agreed as she stepped into Orihime's apartment. "Those big clouds just came out of nowhere!"

She stopped abruptly to look back at Ulquiorra's retreating form.

"Hey!" Nel called out as she ran out and latched onto his back. He stiffened as she was dragged along with him.

"What is it?"

"Come on! You said you'd come with me Ulqui."

"I don't see any reason for me to accompany you." He responded dispassionately.

"Um, I do." She retorted and pointed a blushing Orihime as if she were the obvious answer. "Come on, please!"

After a moment's contemplation, Ulquiorra finally relaxed his shoulders in submission, and let Nel drag him into Orihime's apartment. Orihime, in turn, shut the door behind the odd pair.

"Wow, your place is so cute!"

"It's excessively bright."

Tonight was going to be a memorable one.

* * *

"I take it you've been watching them for some time now."

Rukia turned her violet eyes over to meet the marine green ones of the Tercera Espada, Tia Halibel. The beautiful hollow had the sense to bring her own umbrella as well, unlike their dim-witted, male comrades below.

"For a while now, yes." Rukia replied.

"Have you found anything you're searching for?"

Rukia bit her tongue back to keep from verbally lashing out at the subtly mordant tone in her somber voice.

"I'm here on my own accord to make sure neither of them break out in a fight again." She answered firmly. "So far, the Sexta Espada has been quite docile."

"His name is Grimmjow."

Rukia's grip on the handle of her umbrella tightened.

"Of course. Grimmjow." She corrected herself quietly. "I have faith that this partnership will last. I just want to see the progression."

"Progression of what, exactly?" Asked the blond beauty.

"How well they can at least bear with each other." Rukia answered quietly. "I'm aware of their...our past conflict. Though I do want peace between us. If we can put behind our differences from the war, then I believe we can benefit each other."

Her words were true. Rukia didn't know exactly how she felt when she was informed of the Espadas' return. So as always, she remained on guard for any possible strife. That resolve had weakened upon seeing Captain Mayuri's lab, and the horrors conducted there.

But her minor discomfort was nothing compared to Orihime's pain.

Rukia didn't want more violence after everything that was lost for her fellow Reapers and human friends. The deaths of former Reapers cut deep: Captain Ichimaru for Rangiku and Izuru; Captain Tousen for Hisagi; Aizen for Hinamori.

"I'm sure we can find peace." She concluded with a stronger voice.

The hollow to her side remained silent, but her eyes had been on Rukia intently for entirety of her speech.

_A woman of few words. _Rukia thought to herself.

A few moments later, those aquamarine eyes settled on the bickering heads of orange and blue near a street corner.

"I wouldn't make such a strong claim without knowing every part of the situation." She said coolly. "Are you sure you're as well informed as you think?"

Now it was Rukia's turn to watch her carefully. Her expression gave away nothing, but the tone of her husky voice was allusive. There was no doubt that the Espada knew more than Rukia in regard to the behind the curtain movements in this situation. She wanted to sieze this opportunity to find out more, but how could Rukia trust this woman? With the rain streaming down around her and above her black umbrella, her black dress billowing like shadows in the wind, and her cryptic words echoing among the thousand tear drops from the sky, she resembled a dark seductress whose words could cast anyone's doom in this dismal rainfall.

That was saying something, coming from another dead girl.

"If I may, Miss Halibel-"

"I am simply Halibel." She said calmly.

"Very well. Halibel, answer this for me. How wide do you think the gap is between what we Reapers know, and what you and your comrades know of this affair between our parties?"

Those drop dead gorgeous eyes swallowed her like a vortex.

"Wide enough to fracture this fragile world."

Rukia gulped back the lump in her throat.

"Then what-?"

Halibel ordered her silent with her finger.

"We both know that neither I nor my brothers and sister have the authority to divulge any information to you Reapers. Likewise, you may not reveal anything from your side to us. If you want answers, you must face your own. My lips are sealed."

Rukia did not fail to notice the soft whisper that caressed her final words. Nor did she fail to see the soul band on the arm Halibel was holding up to her. Like every other article of clothing she had, it was a penentrating black.

Though it seemed the darkest of them all.

* * *

The rain really had come out of nowhere. It was when the first few storm clouds swirled about in the sky that the Espada had decided to call it a day and head back home.

With permission from the Soul Society, of course.

The only thing they had required was that at least one group stay until nightfall. Needless to say, Grimmjow and his Soul Reaper partner had not been pleased. At the very least, the sky was darkening outside, and not just because of the thick blanket of gray clouds, so Grimmjow would be home soon.

Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Ulquiorra. He tiredly rested his head against the pink wall he was leaning on, while Nel chattered away with her auburn haired friend.

He should have asked Zommari to check up on their blue-haired comrade instead of Tia. Ulquiorra would have easily been able to watch Nnoitra in his place, or at least threaten him to obey. With Neliel, it wasn't that simple. She had practically hauled him over to the girl's apartment just to say hello, and now the girls' conversation was endlessly dragging on.

_That's what you get for breaking up Nel&amp;Bel. _A familiarly deadpanned voice pointed out in his head.

_Quiet. _Ulquiorra ordered back.

The oncoming messages from Nnoitra were even more vexatious.

**Nnoitra: **Yo! Where the fuck are ya? Baraggan's gettin' all pissy.

7:59 p.m.

**Ulquiorra: **I'm next door.

7:59 p.m.

**Nnoitra: **WHAT?!

7:59 p.m.

**Nnoitra: **Damn you sneaky bastard! Alone with Pet-sama?! And you didn't call me over?!

8:00 p.m.

**Ulquiorra: **Nel is here, too.

8:00 p.m.

**Nnoitra: **Worst. Brother. EVER.

8:01 p.m.

**Zommari: **We may need assistance with dinner preparations tonight.

8:01 p.m.

**Ulquiorra: **I'll try to make it back soon.

8:02 p.m.

**Starrk: **Since you're probably not doing whatever Nnoitra's bitching about, be back by nine so you can grade extra papers with me for tomorrow.

8:03 p.m.

**Ulquiorra: **Fine.

8:03 p.m.

**Nnoitra: **aokhg780i6reqa:(€(?..lao&amp;÷(× 7

8:03 p.m.

**Ulquiorra:** What?

8:04 p.m.

"Gimme my phone, dammit!" They heard from the other side of the wall. Then Ulquiorra's phone beeped aloud in notification.

**Nnoitra: **Ignore that. It was Wonderweiss. I still fucking hate you.

8:04 p.m.

Ulquiorra exited out of his messages, and slipped his phone into his pocket.

"Aren't you the little social butterfly?" Nel teased.

"Um, Ulquiorra, you know you can sit down." The girl offered politely. "There's plenty of chairs."

"Yeah, Ulqui." Nel agreed. "Come sit with us."

He only leaned back farther on the wall. "I'm fine where I am."

"Oh come on." Nel pouted. "We're not gonna bite. Hime may hit you, though..."

"Nel!" The girl exclaimed with a blush painted on her pretty face.

"I wouldn't want that." He said, purposefully sending a knowing look in her direction.

Huh. Starrk was right. Watching her turn a whole other shade red was pretty amusing.

She let out a tired sigh, and brushed back a few slips of coppery hair behind her ear.

"It wasn't my best moment." She admitted.

"It was awesome!" Nel insisted with a smile."You made every one of those mean Reapers be quiet. You were pretty scary, Hime!"

While Nel had good intentions, Ulquiorra couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose at her choice of words. A mini storm cloud may as well have been downpouring on above the girl and her weak smile.

"I'm not so sure how I'm supposed to feel about that Nel..." She let out a forced laugh.

"Well, I felt happy."

Both Ulquiorra and the girl looked up to Nel's suddenly softer voice. The pretty, former Tercera Espada had an earnest smile and adoring light in her hazel eyes.

"I was really happy that at least someone got what we were saying. Thanks Hime."

There was that blush again, but this time it came with an appreciative smile.

"Always, Nel."

"Hey, can I see those drawings you were talking about before?" The childish girl asked excitedly.

"Yeah, of course!"

The two girls bounded of to what Ulquiorra assumed was her room. Before she was yanked in by Nel, she turned her head to Ulquiorra.

"You can warm up your coffee if it's cold Ulquiorra! Be right back! Ah!"

With that, the girls were absorbed in whatever drawings she had mentioned before. Feeling tired, Ulquiorra slipped his hands in his pockets, and rested his head against the wall again. It wasn't until he felt something in one of the pockets of his black jacket, incidentally the same one he had lent her on a similarly rainy day, that he reopened his eyes and pulled out a royal blue cell phone.

It was Grimmjow's. The Soul Society made him confiscate it from his brother so that he couldn't contact the Espada for a potential retaliation, or blow off the whole patrol all together. It annoyed Ulquiorra, but he complied, and held on to Grimmjow's cell for him. He'd immediately want it back so that he could use it. Whenever Grimmjow was quiet, which was a rarity back in Las Noches, one could undoubtedly assume that he was on his phone, engrossed in whatever was taking up his screen. Once today, out of pure, boredom-induced curiosity, Ulquiorra clicked the button to show his password screen.

Surprisingly, the image was of something that looked like a contemporary art design for a mural.

He had been contemplating over why Grimmjow would set such an image, but Ulquiorra could find nothing about the design that would reach out to his brother. The colors were warm, calm, and patiently composed.

Grimmjow was none of those things.

Ulquiorra brushed a few dark strands of hair out of his eyes before slipping the cell phone back in his pocket. While he waited for the two chattering girls, he alleviated his boredom by studying the interior of the apartment.

As expected, (not that he ever imagined the inside of this place) it was typically girly, with fuchsia walls and painted floral designs, and meticulously organized. He was actually mildly surprised to see a fairly large bookshelf tightly packed with a number of books, ranging from the comics like the ones that Lily read, to novels, magazines, and...

Scientific articles?

Shaking off the odd discovery, he changed his course of direction to above the shelf, where about a dozen pictures were propped up. From where he was standing, he could see many of them were shots of her and her friends, doing various things, in various places, at various times in her life. In each picture, she was smiling that pretty smile, as if each moment of her life was the happiest.

His eyes stopped at one picture that was different from the rest. One that prompted him to push himself off of the wall to get a closer look at it.

It was of a young man, perhaps in his mid twenties, with mid-length brown hair, and deep grey eyes just like hers.

"He's my brother."

Ulquiorra turned his head to see that she had stepped up next to him, and was smiling at the image of the man in the photo frame.

"His name is Sora. He died a few years back in a car accident."

Ulquiorra looked from her to the picture of the man Sora.

"He looks considerably older."

"Mm-hm." She agreed. "We had a fifteen year age difference, so he would be..."

She took a moment to do the math.

"Thirty-two." She chirped happily.

"Why are you smiling?"

Her large, confused eyes traveled up to meet his own confused ones.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't humans usually saddened by the death of a loved one? How are you so happy?"

He wasn't being spiteful at all; he was honestly confused.

She only made it worse by giving him another heart-stopping smile.

"Because I know he's a peace." She said simply. Her eyes drifted over to her brother's identical ones, and softened. "I know, because I was there when he was purified."

Ulquiorra looked over at her to see her eyes were far away, as if looking back into the distance of her life.

"He turned into a hollow some time after I had decided to move on from him. My prayers comforted him, but when I stopped, he became bitter, and...he tried to attack me and my friends."

He found himself slowly nodding his head. Ulquiorra knew this story too well. At some point, every hollow experienced it.

"Generally," He began quietly. "A newly born hollow will target the person it most cherished and was most fixated on at the time of death."

"Yeah." She murmured. "He came to me, and almost killed me. Luckily, Ichigo and Rukia were there to save me and Tatsuki. Even Sora, he...he came to his senses at some point by ripping off his mask..."

She stopped for a moment to look at Ulquiorra, but he kept looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

"And he purified himself with Ichigo's sword." She concluded with another ghost of a smile, and downcast eyes. Ulquiorra looked up for a moment at the smiling picture of her brother. He had such a sincere gaze. It reminded him that even the most innocent of humans and animals could give into agony and become monsters.

But it took strength to break free from that consuming hatred.

"That's unusual for a hollow." He said quietly.

"I mean, he was only one for a while." She answered. "I guess, that's what I'm most grateful for. You know, that he didn't have to suffer for so long..."

"Lucky him." He unexpectedly said. Her wide eyes glanced up at him and immediately softened sadly.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be." He murmured and looked down, prompting a few black locks of hair to fall to his eyes. "It doesn't matter anymore."

A few moments later, he felt her hesitant fingertips smooth the the hair back behind his ear, similarly to the last time they were alone. The mere touch, like last time, was enough to put him at peace.

"It matters to me." She said softly, keeping her hand where it was.

Some faint feeling in his chest made him look over at her glittery, crystalline eyes. There, he felt that sensation of weightlessness again, as if his black wings were letting him fly again in the starless, black skies of Hueco Mundo, gliding alongside the moon.

"Maybe the Soul Reapers can't see what you're all going through." She said as she looked deep into his eyes. "But...I was serious when I was talking to Nel. I'm always here if you need me to listen."

Her voice and eyes were so honest. It almost made him want to take her up on her offer. To tell her everything that troubled him about this world, about their situation, about the threat of death that hung over every Espada's head, about his confusion over her and whatever was making his pulse race as he stood close to her...

Almost.

"I don't have much to say." He managed to say.

"I don't know how that's possible." She said with a little laugh. "You've been through so much...been around for so long..."

"They're not fond memories." He pointed out.

"No, I guess not." She said with a sad smile. "Nothing?"

"It's hard to enjoy your existence with a gaping hole in your chest." He explained, slightly rolling his eyes.

"What are you talking about, silly?" He could practically hear her smile.

Then he felt her fluid fingertips again, except this time they traced along the edge of his collarbone, and laid still just beneath the base of his neck. He turned to actually see that sweet smile that always left him wordless and floating in a grey haze.

"There's nothing there." She said softly.

"There was nothing there to begin with." He said almost as softly back to her.

"Oh yeah." She chimed a faint laugh. "Well, now there is something, right...?"

Her voice faded off as his own hand enclosed around hers just at the center of his chest. Her hand was warm against his calloused, cold skin. The two of them were only faintly aware of how close they were standing, and how the rain had subsided outside, how the clouds cleared way for the audience of stars to glitter through the windows.

Ulquiorra's head leaned forward until the top of his forehead rested against her burning one. He could hear her breath hitch, but the rest of her immediately relaxed at the touch. So did he. The black from his hair entangled with the copper of hers. The shimmering colors embraced each other, like how the day and night kissed and melted into a sunset.

He let her smooth hand gather his rough one in her soft grip

"There is now." He murmured.

"Yeah..." She breathed, her breath passing from her lips to his. "I can feel it."

_So can I. All because of you._

* * *

Grimmjow bounded up the stairs of the apartment complex at about nine o' clock at night. The patrol was later than he'd prefer, but he'd bear with it, and that Soul Reaper bastard, for Pantera's sake.

Just as he reached their floor, he saw Ulquiorra walk from the opposite direction to their door. In his arms was Neliel, who was fast asleep and clinging to him like a child. They stopped at a foot from each other, just at the front of the door.

For a short moment, they just looked at each other.

"You got my phone?" Was all he managed to ask.

Ulquiorra nodded down to the edge of his jacket.

"This pocket."

Nodding his own head, Grimmjow unabashedly reached into his pocket to slip out his midnight blue cellular device. On instinct, he held his arm out in front of Ulquiorra.

"Allow me." He muttered as he fished in his jeans pockets for his keys.

"Right..." Ulquiorra muttered.

"Mm...Ulqui?" Nel stirred in his arms and cracked one eye open. "Oh, hey Grimmy."

"Hey Nel." He answered tiredly as he swung the chain of his keys around one finger. He was too drained to bitch about the nickname.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Did you see Hime's sketchbook?"

"No."

"Her drawings are super pretty..."

Within seconds, she was sleeping soundly again. Grimmjow could have asked what she and Ulquiorra were doing at the girl's place, but Nel was asleep, and he and Ulquiorra were quickly following. He wordlessly stuck his keys in the lock and opened the door for him and his hollow siblings to return home to the rest of their family.

* * *

**A/N: Ulquihime, check. Finally! Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I hope it was a good first step at romance. Let me know if Ul's too OOC. **

** Let me know what you think of Baraggan. I've made it my goal to write from every Espada's perspective in this fic. Five down, six to go! (I include Nel)**

**And points for anyone who picked up on the voice in Ulquiorra's head...**

**See you! Please review! **


	8. Chapter 8: Avarice

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 8: Touch

* * *

**A/N: Ugh. I'll admit, I kinda rushed with this chapter. Hopefully it's not too sloppy and sporadic. As always, you beautiful readers are the judges. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

Of all things she could appreciate about this erratic world of equally erratic beings, it was its nature that breathed with its own unique vitality. The calmness she exhibited was a result of her enduring patience for her comrades and others throughout the countless years. It was only when she was at the seaside that she felt her tranquillity was genuine.

Halibel took in a very much needed breath of the salty ocean air. Her pulse calmed in tune with the sinuous symphony of the seas. Effervescent waves brushed persistently against the rocky cliff edge and sandy shores, letting the cool water slip around her ankles and submerge her feet.

It felt good to be near water. Hueco Mundo mimicked the dry terrain of a desert landscape void of water. Tiburón was the only source of water in the world of hollows, but Halibel's bountiful supply of it was not needed for survival. The dependent humans in this world required it for health and nurture; Halibel used the liquid of life for destruction.

Her aquamarine eyes were reflected so easily, as if the substance beneath her was liquid glass. As she brought her fingers to graze the silky surface of the transparent currents, memories flooded within her of Tiburón's blade cutting through her prey. After transforming into a Vasto Lorde, Halibel had limited her calls for battle; she would not sacrifice the life of another for her personal gain. Her only reason to fight was to live. She was not fond of pointless strife, but she did what she needed to in order to survive. There was no reason to shamelessly taint Tiburón's torrents with the blood of an opponent.

Her water was unique to her. It let her live on as the strongest female hollow in Hueco Mundo, a vastly male-dominated plain.

Water was destructive in spite of it's everlasting beauty. The ocean was both a haven for life, and a burial ground for the dead; nothing was deeper; nothing was so expansive; nothing was more free.

Nothing could hold her so close.

A gentle breeze caressed her lovingly, and sifted through the golden blond hair behind her bare shoulders. As she waded further from the shore, soft sea foam brushed against the delicate hem of her dress. The skirt floated up above her knees, letting the water hug the form of her long legs.

The glistening blue of the vast ocean reminded her of Grimmjow. How starkly opposite he was to the serenity of the sea, that it seemed absurd to think of him. If Halibel could liken any element to her impetuous brother, it would have to be wind; still like a silent predator, until violent storms erupted in the skies. Perhaps it was the accompanying breeze that brought him to mind.

She had left some time before his patrol with the Soul Reaper ended. Frustrated as he was, he had been quite tame, as the little female Reaper had indicated. It was relieving to know that he was actually taking responsibility for once. For all the years she had been an Espada, Halibel had come to understand the characters of her comrades. Grimmjow never made the same mistake twice; he would still be the irascible and hot-headed bastard that would give any Reaper hell, but there was no way he would risk losing Pantera again. As Neliel had said, it was almost painful to watch his zanpakuto taken from him. Halibel couldn't fathom the pain it must have brought him.

It made her hold Tiburón even closer at her side.

At the very least, things seemed to have settled down in their conflict with the Reapers. Halibel was not one for violence like some of her brothers, but she had her pride. The Soul Society was pushing its luck with their demands. If not for the soul bands restricting their power, the Reapers would be defenseless against the power of the Espada. The black bands weren't just a symbol of imprisonment; they were the embodiment of the Soul Society's fear of an uprising. The day the Espada had shown the smallest act of unity in defiance, all of the Reapers backed away like the rest of their quivering prey.

Each side knew its trumps and its limits; neither wanted war, yet peace was not an easy path to tread.

Halibel sighed along with the cool wind. What was to become of them if they indeed found an end to this ceaseless conflict? What could hollows have in this wretched world? They didn't belong here, but they couldn't go back to Hueco Mundo after being thoroughly shamed in this imprisonment.

They really only had each other.

Halibel's mind was filled with images of her fracciónes falling by the hand of that damned Head Captain. That day had been pivotal. Not only was it the day of her presumed death, and of the rest of the Espada, but it was her final realization of how she and her comrades had been used.

Now she had been resurrected just to be used again.

She hated Aizen.

She abhorred Reapers.

She detested humans.

Halibel's thoughts took a turn in direction of a certain, kind human girl that visited them; that comforted them; that stood for them against her own comrades; that her dark-haired brother was falling for. For an unknown reason, her tension subsided.

_Well, she's an exception._

"Tia."

Halibel looked off to the shore to see their Primera waiting for her close to the bank. Despite the gusts of wind making his cocoa brown hair float around face, his softened eyes were still clear to her. He knew she was at peace, and was reluctant to disturb her.

"It's time to head back." He murmured so quietly that his sound nearly drowned in the roaring waves.

Halibel dutifully nodded and waded back to shore to join her partner for the day in their ongoing battle.

She stole one last glance at the blue on blue horizon before bidding her glittering, watery home goodbye.

* * *

Orihime rested her elbow on the edge of the outside table, chewing the end of her pencil in deep thought.

_Emerald...Jade...Beryl...Sea...Shamrock...Mint..._

She twirled the sketching pencil in between her delicate fingers distractedly, and sipped her warm coffee. It had been a while since she last visited here. Before, she and her friends would always come to reminisce about their own part-time jobs, complain about homework, make plans for the weekend, and other adolescent-oriented things. She decided to take a walk to relax from the busy school day, and she found herself just at the corner of the plaza for the coffee shop. It was a delight to see the kindly manager again and to melt into the warm scenery of her friends' old hangout. Orihime innocently thought a nice cup could clear her mind and let her be at peace.

She repeated: thought

Just one little scene from school today, of a certain someone taking a similar cup of coffee from her new, overly slothful sensei, reverted her thoughts back to that complicated certain someone.

A certain someone who visited her the prior evening.

A certain someone who she finally got to see more of that night, after she had been yearning to do so for so long

A certain someone who showed her more than she was expecting.

A certain someone who she was trying for, to find the right shade of green for his eyes. Those glassy green eyes that reflected her silvery ones as they got closer to each other and...

She tapped her flushed cheeks and shook her head.

_Don't think about it, or you'll explode!_

Orihime let out a heavy breath, and decided to take another calming sip of coffee. It was calming, up until she remembered him doing the same thing just this afternoon, which brought her thoughts to his lips on the rim of the cup, which made her keenly aware of her own lips pressed to the rim of her own cup, which made her think of...

She covered her blushing face with her hands.

_Explosion in 3...2..._

"No." She said ardently. "Not today."

Orihime took a deep breath and began rummaging through her purse for her art supplies. She pulled out her colored pencils, flipped to a different piece, and began shading areas that she had already completed.

_Maybe that'll kickstart my creative flow. _She thought hopefully.

She was actually quite pleased that she managed to draw out a number of designs she could use for her project. All of them had been inspired by random objects and occurrences, as sensei had said, and neither one looked at all the same. In the corner of each piece, she labeled her muse and the title of the work. She had about four, including the one she was currently working on, to select from.

_But I'm proud of all of them..._

She sighed and darkened the edge of a sea-oriented one with a bright aquamarine. Out of the four she had drawn, she remembered that one seemed a bit too personal to share with everyone. Her fingers tapped impatiently at the spiral ring of the sketchbook, but it was the only way to stop them from flirting at the paper edges and sneaking a coy peek at the certain piece she had been paying most attention to.

Scarlet shaded itself on her cheeks. She couldn't stop thinking about that one piece. Her muse was definitely one she had never used before, but that's what made her so eager to capture its essence on paper. She had put so much heart into it, it was almost embarrassing to look at it.

Which made it all the more tempting...

Just one little look couldn't hurt. Her other pieces were already nearly complete. Might as well check for any possible new ideas...

With all her willpower, she got a tighter grip on her pencil and began furiously shading leaf edges of palm trees to create a shadow effect on the sandy border.

Orihime was usually so easily distracted. Why couldn't she get her mind off of one person? More importantly, why was she having so much trouble saying his name? She had said it plenty of times before effortlessly. She could barely even glance at him today without internally spontaneously combusting. It's not like anything serious happened between them last night...

All she did was...

"Scribble, scribble."

She jumped up and let out a squeak of surprise. Just as her heart jumpstarted, so did her mind. She turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to find a familiar face.

"Grimmjow!" She managed to say after she caught her breath. "You scared me!"

The Sexta had his same callous smirk hovering above her, except it was accompanied by a bemused light in his oceanic eyes.

"Wonder how many other redheads that'll work on." He said as he settled his hands in his pockets.

"Dammit, I said not to wander off!"

Orihime's wide, grey eyes followed the sound of an even more familiar, and irate, teenaged voice. She found Ichigo approaching them from the street, looking exasperated and aggravated.

"Wrong again, Sunspot." Grimmjow smirked at the ireful teenager. "You clearly said not to leave the patrol perimeter. Which is the whole fuckin' city. Better choose your words carefully next time."

Just as he finally reached them, Ichigo shot a menacing glare in the direction of the blue-haired Arrancar.

"Don't mess with me, you damn-!"

"Ichigo?"

The anger in his bright, amber eyes immediately dissipated into confusion as he looked down at an equally confused Orihime.

"Wha-Orihime?"

"What are you two doing here?" She asked curiously. "Um...together, I mean."

"Don't make it sound like we're some couple, girl." Grimmjow shot an mildly irritated look at her.

"Leave her alone." Ichigo threatened. "Anyway, we're not really here on our own will. We're patrolling this area of the city for any hollow activity."

"Oh yeah!" She clapped her hands together. "Nel mentioned that last night. No wonder you've been disappearing after school lately."

"Yeah." Ichigo mumbled reluctantly. "It's cutting into a lot of my time."

"It lasts until nine at night, right?" She asked tentatively.

Ichigo's shoulders slumped in confirmation, but Grimmjow answered for him anyway.

"The normal patrol for the Espada lasts until sunset, but we work the night shift."

"Then..." Orihime knit her brows in confusion. "Why don't they just call you guys out at sunset instead of making you work the whole day?"

"More time for 'friendly collaboration'." He said bitterly. "Complete load of shit."

"That cuts into too much of your guys' time though." She said with a slightly more argumentative tone.

"It's called punishment, Princess." Grimmjow settled Pantera on his shoulders. "It's what happens to us bad kids when we don't follow the rules. You wouldn't know."

"Yeah, I would." Orihime struggled to fight off an impish smile. "I'm friends with those bad kids."

"Hey." Ichigo gave a look of hurt. "That stings coming from you."

"Sorry..." Orihime managed to say through her giggles.

"I already got the teachers dogging my ass about delinquency, I don't want my friends-"

"Yo! Kurosaki!"

Ichigo let out a loud, frustrated groan.

"Those fuckers again?" Grimmjow smirked at the rambunctious gang of delinquents from Hano High just coming up from the street corner. "Aren't you popular?"

"Shut up." Ichigo grumbled. "I better go deal with them..."

"Need a hand, Carrot Top?" Grimmjow mockingly asked.

"You," Ichigo pointed to him. "Stay right here. Hands to yourself. No trouble. Don't. Even. Blink."

With that, the irate redheaded Substitute Reaper stalked off to level a few meatheads to the ground. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and flipped an derogatory hand sign in his direction.

"He's pretty strict, huh?" Orihime gave a light laugh.

"He's got a handful to deal with." Grimmjow shrugged. "Courtesy of yours truly."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure how well this 'partnership' of yours would work, but it seems like you two are getting along well enough." She concluded with a smile.

"Tch. Wouldn't call it 'getting along'." Grimmjow muttered.

"Well, there aren't any reports of damaged city property, injured citizens, or excess street violence, so I guess that's a good sign."

"Maybe." He shrugged nonchalantly.

He seemed far less...wild than usual. It seemed as if he was forcing himself to be tame. Orihime wondered if he really was trying to stay in line so that he didn't cause another ruckus again. It made her feel kind of down hearted to think of him being submissive to rules. It wasn't like him at all.

"Hey."

Her thoughts stopped as she heard his rough voice call out to her. She blinked up at him innocently.

"Um...yes?"

Those piercing, azure eyes fell on her, making it feel like she was staring into the sky itself.

"What were Nel and Ulquiorra doing at your place last night?"

She blinked. And then she blinked again.

"O-oh..." She stammered, feeling the red rush to her face again. "Um...Nel and Ulquiorra? Your Nel and Ulquiorra, right? Well, actually there are none else in Japan as far as I know-"

"It's a simple question, Princess." He said with a surprising amount of patience. "Don't blow it out of proportion."

She took a deep breath to tame her flustered heart.

"Y-yeah..." She let out an apologetic laugh. "Sorry. Nel just wanted to visit, and Ulquiorra was there with her, so she dragged him along. That's all. Nothing else! I swear!"

Still looking remarkably composed, Grimmjow glared down at her for a few excruciating seconds, until he accepted the explanation with a careless shrug.

"If you say so."

The slight teasing lilt that strung itself around the way he said it made it seem like he knew something she didn't.

"Um...If I may," She began carefully. "Why do you ask?"

He turned to her with an apathetic gaze that reminded her of that certain someone again.

"Ul was acting different last night. I was wondering if that had anything to do with their little 'visit' to you." He said suggestively.

"Oh..." She melted. "U-um...I wouldn't really know. He seemed fine last night. W-we just talked. That's all."

"Just talking can do a lot for someone."

Her large eyes snapped up to his, only to find that they had a far away look in them. He seemed almost unreachable, as if he were looking back at a particular memory that reflected his cryptic words.

They reminded her of the time when she last spoke to him alone. When she was actually able to understand how much fighting meant to him. Orihime couldn't help but settle her eyes on Pantera's blade shining under the sun. She noticed the tight grip he had on the hilt of his sword. It relieved her that he couldn't see the content smile spread on her lips (he'd probably think it annoying). Nel was right about him last night: he was going to behave in order to keep his zanpakuto.

_They really mean a lot to you guys, huh? _

Orihime couldn't imagine the strength it took to stand up for yourself against such dire odds. She really had to admire their resilience.

"Is it better?" She asked tentatively.

"Is what?"

"I mean...you, I guess. You have Pantera back. Do you...um...feel better?"

His dangerous eyes settled on her and made her feel intensely scared for what seemed like eternity, until he shrugged.

"I guess."

_Couldn't you have saved me the potential heart attack and just said that sooner?_

Regardless, a relieved smile painted itself on her lips.

"Thank goodness. That makes me happy."

"Why would it?" He asked, although the normal bite to his voice was absent. "It's not like it's your problem."

"Maybe not." She lifted her head to give him her smile. "But, if you're okay, then that really puts me at ease. I guess I'm happy for you."

It was the truth. He even seemed more at peace with his sword at his side. Orihime could sense his normally raging rieatsu mellowed out. His blank blue eyes stared down at her for a while, before shifting out the oddly quiet city.

"You're a weird girl."

The acidity was still gone, but his voice had dropped down to an even lower pitch. Something almost soft. She felt her smile widen a little and nodded her head.

"By the way," He suddenly said. "The shading's messed up."

"Huh?" She said in confusion. Her eyes glanced around to wherever he was talking about. With a annoyed sigh, he pointed to her sketchbook where she had unsuccessfully tried to manage the interwoven shadows of the trees at the beach shore.

"I did?"

"Yeah." He plainly replied.

"Th-then how do I do it?" She asked.

Looking back at it, it seemed absurd to ask an hollow, and Grimmjow no less, for art advice. Her basic, naive concept of an artist was someone patient, composed, and emotionally mellow.

Her basic, naive concept of Grimmjow did not fit the picture.

So she was infinitely surprised when he made _her_ picture better.

Taking the pencil directly from her fingertips, he masterfully grazed the graphite lightly against the paper to mimic the effect of shade under a tree from the sun. Each shadow aligned perfectly with the leaves, but reflected in the effect of the sun's positioning on the skewed orientation of shadows.

She watched in astonishment as he did this in a matter of seconds. He dropped the pencil at the side of her book, and stood straighter from leaning over the table.

"That's how." He said conclusively.

She was at a loss for words.

"I...I didn't know you could..."

"Hey!"

They both turned their heads to see Ichigo atop a pile of the now heavily beaten boys from Hano High. He was approaching them while breathing quite heavily. He himself had a few bruises and cuts, but unlike his opponents, he was able to stand.

Before he arrived, Grimmjow bent down to whisper something in her ear. Her blush deepened as she felt his hot breath on her skin, but her attention was truly captured by the words that flowed from his lips. Before she could question him, he straightened up to face his partner.

"What's happenin'?"

"I just got word from uptown." Ichigo muttered as he held the side of his head that had been beaten with a baseball bat. "Menos popped up in that far region we were in a while ago. We gotta head back.

"Whatever, Copperhead." Grimmjow muttered as he rolled his eyes.

Ichigo scowled. "Maybe on the way, you'll learn my freakin' name."

"Keep your fingers crossed." Grimmjow smirked. "Say bye-bye to your girlfriend, Foxy Locks."

"Shut up!" Ichigo hissed through gritted teeth. He turned to Orihime with an apologetic look and waved goodbye.

"Later Orihime..." He mumbled in embarrassment.

"Bye." She smiled and waved back. Underneath the happy expression, confusion, disbelief, and pleasant surprise were wisping around like popped balloons in her head.

_"Neither did I, Princess."_

* * *

Zommari glanced furtively back at his fighting comrades. Only a few of them had been called out to dispose of a small wave of Menos that sprouted in the pit of downtown. It had been a fairly calm day, but the few Menos that had arrived were receiving no mercy.

Only four of them had been called out, but only one was really needed. Zommari, Nnoitra, and Nel were making appreciable efforts to do their job, but Ulquiorra had always been the overachiever of their group.

Today, he was positively ruthless.

Just as Zommari jumped from a building top to strike a Gillian, the Cuatra Espada zipped by and sliced the side of it's mask. In his wake, he spun and incapacitated two oncoming Vasto Lorde. The Reapers behind him could barely keep up with his speed, seemed to be fearful of getting near him.

"Ul, leave some for us, dammit!" Nnoitra yelled from atop a fallen Adjucha. He aimed for an incoming Gillian's head with Santa Teresa, but Neliel struck it down with her powerful Bala.

"Fuck all of you." Nnoitra growled in frustration.

"First come, first served!" Nel chirped from a crowd of Gillian. "Gotta keep up, Mantis-san!"

"Quit calling me that!" He roared as he head for the Gillian.

Zommari flicked his eyes away from his comrades and back to the Adjucha approaching him. It's charcoal claws grazed heavily against Brujería's unbreakable steel, but Zommari effortlessly threw it back. In one quick, fluid movement, Zommari stabbed Brujería deep to its hilt into the Menos's abdomen. Before it could fall, a Reaper flash stepped to the scene and slashed the apex of its mask. Zommari watched blankly as the blood drops mixed in with the scattered white remnants of a hollow just like him.

_It was not my intention to give you such a pitiable end. _

The Reaper, a dainty girl with round eyes, landed at his side. She timidly looked in his direction, and uttered a meek 'thank you', before flash stepping to where her comrades were.

Zommari surveyed the area: Nel and Nnoitra had taken care of the horde of Adjuchas, where Reapers were delivering their sentences, and Ulquiorra had just single-handedly befallen a trio of Vasto Lorde. Just as his eyes zipped up to inspect the closing Garganta, a considerably large Vasto Lorde sprung forth from the darkness. Zommari drew Brujería at the ready, but Ulquiorra had already made way to slash its spine.

Zommari's eyes widened at his mistake, and immediately used Sonido to catch his falling comrade. They landed next to a stop sign, just a few feet away from the evaporating black mist of the murdered hollow.

Ulquiorra was clutching the back of his neck and breathing slowly. He could see that, as adept as he was on the battle field, he had minor injuries, and bloodstains and rips in his clothing. Zommari could feel the tightness around his golden eyes loosen as they fell on his comrade.

"That was careless." He said as Ulquiorra separated from him to stand on his own. His black-haired brother combed his disheveled bangs back from his face to reveal his surprisingly sleepy, jade eyes.

"It was." He responded impassively.

"Then why did you do it?" Zommari prodded from his normally rational comrade.

Ulquiorra gave a careless, and completely uncharacteristic, shrug.

"Mistakes happen."

"Not with you." Zommari said almost chidingly.

His brother had been noticeably distracted as of late. He was never one to lose focus so easily. Zommari had covertly heard from Starrk that there was tension between their brother and a certain auburn-haired woman next door. While he was never one for gossip, Zommari did feel a pang of worry over Ulquiorra's affiliation with the human girl. It was always around her that he seemed so out of balance. Without a clear conscience and serene set of mind, a warrior could not truly prosper.

In that instant, their two siblings dropped down to meet them. Zommari darted his eyes up to the sky. There was no distortion in its blue expanse, meaning the Garganta had sealed off. The Reapers were finishing off the final wave of Menos.

Nel twirled over to Ulquiorra's side with a concerned expression.

"Aww! You ripped the shirt we bought!" She pouted. "How do you make blood appear on black fabric?"

"I'll buy a new one." He replied plainly.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she held the bangs out of his eyes. "You're being all scary today. I mean, more than usual."

"Yeah." Nnoitra loomed over them with a look of contempt. "Quit takin' all the prey from us, battle-hog."

Unfazed, Ulquiorra only briefly brought his eyes up to Nnoitra before brushing him off.

"I don't suppose you're asking me to slow down for you to keep up?" He replied almost challengingly.

As always, Nnoitra took the bait and growled. "What was that-?!"

"Stop." Zommari put his hands between his comrades. "The last thing we need is for the both of you to be punished for misconduct."

Both brothers reluctantly backed off of each other. Nel shook her head and poked the side of Ulquiorra's head.

"What's gotten into you?" She scolded with a motherly worry in her girlish voice. "Since when do you provoke other people?"

"Blowin' off some steam?" Nnoitra asked, still irritated.

Ulquiorra remained silent, and slipped his hands in his pockets.

Zommari stepped up to his pale brother with a serious light in his eyes.

"Neliel is right. You do seem quite aggressive today. You've had three slip ups in one patrol. That's more than Nnoitra-"

"Hey!" Their Quinta Espada cried indignantly

"It is impractical." Zommari continued. "I refuse to continue saving you from your errors in battle. Especially for a warrior as proficient as yourself."

Their emotionless brother had a foreign burning look in his venom green eyes, but he let them fall downcast and nodded in understanding. Neliel wasn't so easily bought by his resignation.

"What happened?" She asked soothingly. "You've been acting this way since..."

She wasn't able to finish her thought at the sound of a loud crash. Their four heads turned to where the Reapers were being pushed around by the already weakened Adjuchas. Nnoitra scowled as he watched them.

"Fuckin' pansy-asses." He muttered, blowing a few black strands of hair out of his face. "Can't do shit without us."

Zommari nodded his head in agreement, feeling bitterness spread across his chest.

"The feeble beings can't defeat one enemy without the help of another. It's pathetically absurd."

"I mean, I guess these Menos are more than the usual waves they get." Nel shrugged, making her turquoise locks ruffle up.

"What I don't understand is why they don't call on the captains and lieutenants to participate instead of these inexperienced recruits." Zommari said.

"Probably tryin' to toughen up the grunts." Nnoitra smirked as he crossed his arms. Amusement danced in his shady eyes.

Ulquiorra lifted his cold eyes to the Reaper unit fighting off the few weakened Menos that remained. Before Zommari could wonder why the look in his eye sharpened, he drew Murciélago, and threw it off in the direction of that same female Reaper...

...and saved her in the nick of time.

Murciélago's blade pierced the wing of the flying Adjucha that was coming for her, and pinned it to the side of a building. As it struggled to break free of its binding, another Reaper destroyed the side of its mask, and purified it.

"Nice aim." Nnoitra said as he rested Santa Teresa's on his shoulders. "Look at the little bugs zip around like-"

"Like bugs?" Nel finished with an arched brow.

"Pretty much." Nnoitra muttered.

The Reaper girl flash stepped to where they were, with Murciélago in her hands. She shyly walked up to Ulquiorra and held out the lethal, blood-stained blade.

"H-here..." She mumbled, unable to meet his intense.

Always the indifferent soldier, Ulquiorra wordlessly stepped closer and took back his sword.

"Finish off the final wave." He subtly ordered. "Or do you still need our assistance?"

The girl's wide eyes glanced up at his, but immediately darted back down to the street. She meekly shook her head and made her way back to her unit.

"You've got quite the way with the ladies, huh Ul?" Nnoitra mocked him a low laugh. "Two chicks last night. You baggin' a Reaper girl now?"

"Be quiet." Ulquiorra muttered.

"You like a variety, huh?" Nnoitra snickered.

"That's enough, Nnoitra." Zommari put an arm in front of his ill-behaved brother. "Don't provoke him, lest you want to meet an end like the rest of his opponents today."

"Heh." Nnoitra spread a competitive grin on his pale lips. "Hey, I'm always up for a match. Fightin' these bitch-ass Menos ain't any fun. Gimme a real thrill, Ul." He challenged with an expectant grin.

"Always trying to satisfy that death drive." Nel gave a tired sigh. "You never change Nnoi-Nnoi."

"Don't get all preacher-mode on me, Neliel." Nnoitra poked her forehead with Santa Teresa's hilt. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna fuck up that pretty face you like so much. Well, not too much any way." He snickered.

"Please." Nel flipped her hair. She bounced over to Ulquiorra's side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I would never do that to Hime!" She said stoutly.

An awkward silence blew by with a faint wind in the air.

"What are you talking about?" Ulquiorra asked tiredly.

"You know what." She said seriously. Zommari and Nnoitra watched as she stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear.

Something that made the slightest, barely detectable, and easy to miss look of trouble cross his pale features. With whatever ability he had in her tight grasp, he cracked his knuckles.

Just moments later, the Reaper unit was standing before them after finally eliminating the remaining Menos.

"Took ya damn long enough." Nnoitra scoffed.

The man in front, the presumed leader, payed their tall brother no mind and turned to Ulquiorra.

"The Garganta has cleared in this area and the rest of the hollows have been cleared out."

"Except us." Nnoitra muttered.

The man cleared his throat. "We would like to ask that you four stay behind for extra hours in case of a second wave."

"What? But we finished our patrol!" Nel placed her hands on her hips.

"We're aware of that, but there is still an eminent threat of more appearing. Their invasions are near unpredictable, and we cannot take any chances."

"So then, I assume you'll be accompanying us?" Ulquiorra inquired from the back. His tone was even, but there was a challenge behind his words.

The leader suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, we will be reporting to other posts-"

"So you get to go fuck around all over the place while we're stuck with guard duty?" Nnoitra glared over the considerably shorter Reaper. "Who gave you these orders? Tell me so I can kick his ass!"

"Hmph."

A taller, cantankerous looking subordinate from behind his leader rolled his eyes. "The same captain that kicked _your_ ass, Arrancar. Captain Kenpachi."

"Him?" Nnoitra asked with an arched brow. Then his expression screwed into a sour scowl. "Been meaning to confront that eyepatch-wearin' bastard."

"You wear an eyepatch too, Nnoi-Nnoi..." Nel whispered indiscreetly.

"Shut it..." He said between gritted teeth.

"Point is," The subordinate continued. "These are his orders. I don't think you wanna risk another round with him, so I suggest you be a good little boy and follow orders."

"How kind of you." Nnoitra said in a low, threatening voice. "On the contrary, I'm looking forward to spillin' more of that crazy bastard's blood. I suggest you be a good little _bitch_ and pass on the message."

"Listen, you-!"

"That's enough!" The little female Reaper ordered with a mousy voice that wasn't particularly fierce. "Don't ridicule them after they've worked so hard to help."

"Oh please." Another taller female muttered. "You think they wanna help? They don't have a choice."

"Real sensitive." Nel crossed her arms as a dark look took residence on her pretty face. "At least refrain from pouring salt in the wounds we got from protecting you."

The female Reaper huffed indignantly. "What do you know about sensitivity?"

"Well," She began with a mocking lilt in her voice. "I, an _evil_, soulless creature, know that even the most insufferable people have feelings and that I should respect them if they respect me. It's only polite, you know?"

"Don't even start with any 'courtesy' bull. The male Reaper muttered scathingly.

"Watch that attitude, missy." The female one followed up threateningly. "I won't stand for that cutesy sass. Know who your commanding officers are. What do I look like to you, your friend?"

"No." Nel gave a sickeningly sweet smile. No one failed to notice her hand tighten around the hilt of Gamuza.

"More like a stuck-up bitch who needs an attitude adjustment."

The remaining light in Nel's large hazel eyes completely flickered off, and for once, they truly looked as deadly as she was.

"Well." Nnoitra grinned menacingly. "We're finally on the same page Neliel."

As one of the responsible members of the group, Zommari had the vague notion that he should quell the bickering between the two groups.

Then again, it _was_ only a vague feeling.

"Please!" The tinier female half commanded, half pleaded. "No more fighting! If we can't cooperate, how can we help each other?"

"By having you force these bracelets on our wrists."

Zommari's deep voice cut through the thin air. Even his comrades turned at the rare sound of his voice in an argument. His eyes settled on the puny, dark-cloaked Reapers beneath him.

He seethed at the sight.

The spineless cowards had the nerve to talk down to him and his comrades as if they were servants. He had always loathed Shinigami. They subjugated his fellow hollows, dubbed them as 'evil', for trying to survive when they weren't saved from misery. What did they understand of pain? Of sorrow? Of loneliness? What would they understand of the Espadas' sufferings? Nothing. They were the torturers. The slave-drivers. The weaklings that needed them.

Zommari took a deep breath to purge the negativity that threatened to disturb the peace of his mind. Instead, he surveyed each Reaper with equal contempt in his eyes.

"I wouldn't call this 'cooperation' unless the word 'coercive' is added in front of it." He said evenly, though with a hint of malice.

"Hey." The subordinate male glared up at him. "I dunno what the fuck you're all trying to pull with this shit about the soul bands, but quit trying to psych us out. It ain't happening. We're the ones in control here, so we'll kindly ask you to follow orders."

Zommari didn't even blink.

"Then we kindly refuse." He replied frigidly.

The leader forced his way to the front. The impassive look on him had hardened into something more severe. He pulled out a small black cellular device from his pocket. As he flipped it open, a feeling of anger, indignation, and instinctive panic spread through Zommari, Nel and Nnoitra.

"If you refuse to obey, then you leave us no choice."

"Sir, wait!" The small girl pulled on his arm. "There's no need-!"

Silence.

Dead, chilling, suffocating silence filled the air. The only sound was of the cell phone, sliced flawlessly in half, skidding across the rough asphalt of the street. Following in its path were streaks of blood from the stunned leader's cheek.

The rest of their eyes followed the line of Murciélago's gleaming blade to Ulquiorra, who's deadly expression looked more like a hollow's than ever.

Being the only one to make a move, he torturously slid the blade back from the paralyzed Reaper's face to his side, and flicked the lingering drops of blood from Murciélago onto the street. His vacant eyes never left the terrified Reapers.

Zommari, Nnoitra, and Nel watched as their brother stepped up to the immobilized Reaper unit. Each one, even the more haughty ones, had fear swirling in their wide eyes. The agonizing thirst to shed their blood for looking so disgustingly worthless coursed through Zommari like intoxicating liquor. He desired to follow up with his own means to terrorize the abject Death gods, but he knew better than to interfere with Ulquiorra.

Especially when he was as angry as he was now.

Like the very essence of danger, Murciélago's incisive edge hung just a few lethal breaths away from the man's lifeline jugular. None of his comrades shifted a muscle to aid him.

Cowards.

"Likewise," Ulquiorra said in that low, nightmarish voice he reserved for his victims. "You leave us with little choice but to retaliate in the presence of a threat."

The man could only helplessly elicit a shiver as Murciélago bit lightly into the paper thin skin on his throat.

"Correct?" Ulquiorra asked in his bloodcurdling voice.

_Like any of the wretched worms have the gall to answer._

"In response to your question," His lifeless eyes settled on the taller, shivering female. "No. We don't want to help. We want nothing to do with you unskilled, unbearable amateurs. We could easily stand aside and let any of those Menos prey on your weak souls. Would your precious Head Captain care? Even if he does, do you honestly believe he'll kill _us?_ What are a couple of expendable soldiers to actual Arrancar strong enough to defeat the enemy? Regardless of his irrationality, the old man isn't an idiot. We are your first, last, and only capable line of defense. Remember that before you even think of calling judgement to us."

The rest of his comrades, even friendly Neliel, watched patiently, coldly, and approvingly as he struck fear in the heart of each dead soul. A dark green aura slithered around Murciélago's blade; only a fraction of the spiritual pressure that leaked from it was enough to suffocate any being weaker than an Espada.

"If you're still thinking about making that call, tell the Head Captain this: if he thinks he can afford to threaten me and my comrades with insubordination..."

Zommari could see the slightest hint of the tattoo of the number four from beneath the torn fabric of Ulquiorra's shirt.

"He should be ready to face a real hollow threat."

* * *

Orihime shuddered as she walked up to the door to her home. Her hand immediately went to her fast-beating heart upon experiencing the sudden chill of worry.

She had just felt Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure spike up.

She felt her feet glide to the railing to get closer to the city. Her eyes darted across the glimmering expanse of the town at twilight, but nothing was out of the ordinary now.

_I hope he's okay..._

_Don't worry. _A strong voice inside of her reassured. _If they need you, they'll call you. Or pick you up...literally..._

Orihime blew out a breath of air into the chilled atmosphere. The warmth of the sun was fading quickly as it disappeared behind the horizon. She wiped away a yawn-induced tear off of her cheek, and turned around to unlock the door to her apartment. She smiled as the coldness from the outside escaped into the warm air of her lovely home.

She yawned again. What had she been thinking staying out all day on a school day? Her eyes drifted up to the shelf where Sora's picture smiled at her, and where something else that had happened in that exact spot, just last night, that had been tugging at her thoughts all day.

_Oh right. _She thought as the heat rushed to her face.

Sighing, she settled her school bag on the edge of her desk and sat in the chair. Her sketchbook peeked out from the unzipped mouth of her bag.

Giving into temptation, she reached to pull it out of the bag and flipped it open to a page. Incidentally, it was the one ocean view piece that Grimmjow had helped her with. A smile found its way to her lips each time she remembered that moment.

_I had no idea he knew anything about art. _

_"Neither did I, Princess." _

His words echoed in her head. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his breath against her ear, which still made her blush at his sudden proximity. Orihime hadn't expected to find out something so personal about the Sexta Espada. Especially something seemingly so opposite to his character.

Tough, battle-hardened, ruthless Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, an artist? It was as odd as it was a pleasant surprise. It made her wonder if something like art had ever reached out to Grimmjow in his lifetime.

_I wonder..._

Just as her thoughts jumbled about ponderously in her head, she began thumbing through the pages of her book. Her eye was immediately caught by a bright flash of green. The folded edge of the paper she had left as a bookmark for her special piece winked at her invitingly. She gulped as she flipped to her nearly complete piece. Her breath was stolen each time she saw it.

Wings.

Not those of an angel.

Not those of a devil.

Wings that were unique in their own right. Those that flew up to the resplendent sun to escape the darkness inside of a cave. Its light reflected off of the iridescent pattern of greens, blacks, and white of the flying wings. The motion exhibited made it seem like they were leaving the darkness from below to reach the awaiting light of life. The stalagmites and stalactites that lined the inside of the cave were those of emeralds. Their light shone brighter as they got closer to the sun.

Orihime loved the way that shade of green lit up so beautifully. She loved the way its cold embrace still made her feel warm. It made her heart melt in happiness. The same way he did just last night.

As she looked up to Sora again, she found her shining eyes mirrored in his. The gentle smile he had was the same as always, but tonight they carried a knowing and reassuring light in them.

"Don't give me that look..." She mumbled in embarrassment. "Nothing happened..."

The light glimmered teasingly. Her blush intensified.

"All I did was hug him!"

* * *

Nel skipped along the sidewalk, counting the streetlights as she and Ulquiorra walked home together after the patrol ended. Mari and Nnoi-Nnoi had taken a different route to give Ulquiorra some space after his scary ultimatum to the Soul Reapers. Nel, being the sweetly naive girl she was, didn't want to leave Ulqui completely alone in his somber darkness, so she accompanied him.

"Twenty-three...twenty-four...twenty-five..."

She stopped under one, and looked up in the air in contemplation. Wait a minute...

"Hey Ulqui!" She called out to her brother who was a few paces behind her. "Was that the twenty-fifth one?"

Ulquiorra caught up to her in a few short strides, but barely responded.

"I wasn't counting."

"Aww, dang it." She pouted. "And I had a good streak going. Oh well, there's always tomorrow." She lilted as she walked along happily with her dark-haired brother. He only slightly nodded.

"Yeah."

Nel flicked her eyes over to him in slight worry. After their little dispute with the Reaper unit, Ulqui had been quite dejected and quiet for the entirety of the patrol.

Well, more than usual anyway.

"Man. Those Reapers were really pushing their luck. Nice job setting them in place like that, bro." She turned to him with a smile.

He said nothing.

_Oh boy. He's not even mad anymore. Worse. He's thinking. _

Nel hadn't bothered herself too much with Ulquiorra's notably increased cheerlessness. She simply attributed his moodiness to stress of the exhausting hours of their shifts, and to the pompousness of the Reapers; but as she watched him carefully, his normally alert and uncaring eyes were downcast in deep thought. It was rare when her brother actually seemed as dispirited as he looked (no pun intended; well, maybe). Her thoughts traveled back to when he looked the exact same as he did the previous night at Hime's.

"Hey."

He stopped as she took hold of his arm. She didn't falter as those irritated, slitted eyes stabbed into her. Please. She had taken way worse wounds.

"We didn't finish our talk from before." She reminded him. "You didn't want Mari or Nnoi-Nnoi to be there, so now's our best time. It'll make you feel better, dontcha know?" She playfully echoed Dondochakka's catchphrase.

He glared at her for a while, before turning away and walking off.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, come on!" She jogged back up to him and jumped on his back. "Yeah there is!"

He stopped, completely unfazed by the girl latched onto him, while other people out in the night stared at the odd couple.

"Get off, Nel." He tiredly ordered. "People are staring."

"Who cares about them?" She tapped the side of his head impatiently. "Let them watch! Let them look at my loser of a brother who can't figure out what he's feeling and what the girl he likes is-Wah!"

Within seconds, he managed to pry her off and fling her over his shoulder, and continue walking.

"I'm not laying off, you know!" She threatened. "We are going to talk about this whether you like it or not-"

"Fine."

She stopped in surprise as he settled her down onto a bench of the park near their apartment building. She hadn't noticed that they had reached so close to home already. Ulquiorra sat next to her and gave her a look to commence.

"Well?"

Neliel sighed at her brother.

"I don't know how Hime puts up with you."

"She's not as difficult as you." He shot back.

A moment later, he rubbed the back of his neck in reconsideration.

"Actually, that's completely wrong."

"How so?" Nel inquired curiously.

Ulquiorra breathed out into the dead silence of the night.

"Everything about her is difficult for me to understand. For such a simplistic girl, she manages to perplex me the moment I reach sobriety. It's annoying and intriguing." He concluded with a quiet sigh.

Nel nodded along as a smile pulled the corners of her lips.

"Yeah, she's an interesting girl. Definitely my favorite human out of the bunch. Except Ichigo, of course." She let out a giggle. "But I think you have yet to notice the effect you have on her, Ulqui."

Ulquiorra turned his head to her with a quizzical gaze.

"I mean, have you seen how flustered she gets around you? It's so cute!" She gushed excitedly. Ulquiorra shifted his gaze away, but he couldn't fool Nel; she saw that glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

"I always thought she was just peculiar like that." He said quietly.

"She's normally really outgoing though." Nel insisted. "The only way a girl that bubbly can suddenly become so shy is if she's talking to her crush. Hint, hint." Nel nudged his shoulder knowingly.

Ulquiorra just stared at her blankly.

"Ulquiorra," Nel said seriously. "Everybody knows how Hime feels about you. You can't be that oblivious."

He didn't say anything as she slipped her arms around his shoulders. For a while, he was quiet, seemingly mulling over her choice of words.

"Why does everyone expect me to know what's going on with that girl? I can't see how she feels."

"No, you can't _see_ it." Nel said. "But you can feel it. Just like how you felt something last night, remember?"

The way his eyes softened fractionally indicated that he did.

"No one else knows, so don't worry." She assured.

"How long were you watching?"

"Long enough." She said softly. " You've never been like that with anyone. You've been thinking about it all day. That's why you were acting all frustrated today, right?"

"Aside from all else that normally irritates me," He said sullenly. "Maybe."

"Don't make me tell you of all people to be serious, Ulquiorra." Nel said firmly. "It's been bugging you all day, which is perfectly understandable. When you saw Hime today in school, did you even talk to her?"

Silence.

"Did she seem any different?"

She didn't need to hear his answer to know that she was right.

"Don't just brush this kind of stuff off like it's nothing." She chided. "It's serious for you and Hime. If you ignore it now, it'll only be harder to face later."

Something darkened in his emerald eyes, as if her words brought back memories of something else. He blinked it away and slipped his hands in his pockets. Nel tentatively rested her head in the hollow of his neck.

_Is this okay?_

He let his shoulders relax.

_Sure. _

"Look," She said softly. "I know there's a special bond between you two. I can tell by the way you're always so calm around her. Not like your usual, 'I don't care', calm, but like a 'I'm content', kind of calm."

"Thank you for the elaboration." She could envision his eyes rolling.

"Don't let it bother you of you can't figure out how she makes you feel, Ulqui." Nel encouraged. "She's just as confused as you are."

"I doubt that." He muttered. "She's had time to accustom herself to these thoughts and sensations. We've long forgotten them. I'm the one flying blind here."

"I doubt Hime's ever been in love before."

Those words seemed to really settled into him. Nel could feel his throat tighten. His head fell slightly, making the tips of his charcoal black hair brush against her cheeks.

"Like seriously in love, anyway." She murmured against his shoulder. "Ulqui?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be scared." Nel whispered into the night.

Her words went unheard by any soul except his. They poured out from her trembling lips, and scattered away into the dark sky where both of their gazes flew up to.

"What would any of us have to be scared of?" He asked just as quietly.

Nel twirled a shiny lock of his dark hair around her finger.

"Something inside of us." She said, feeling less and less playful as she spoke more. She could almost feel herself lapse into another mentality. It was as if the flickering lights in her head brightened up to reveal more. The more simplistic her view was, the easier it was for her to discover basic truths. As she expanded her rudimentary understanding, more thoughts, feelings, conjectures, concepts, and beliefs flooded the narrow path of her mind, opening her to a bigger world.

"Right here." She said as her hand slid down to the place where his hollow hole used to be. "You feel everything thing here, right?"

She could feel him nod his head slowly.

"You don't need to worry about it." She said comfortingly. "We feel it too."

"We?"

"Our Espada." She clarified. "I think the more time we spend here, the more we feel something in this area." She patted his chest lightly. "Our siblings may not admit to it, but I've seen it in their eyes. There are times when there's something different about everyone. When they look kinda lost. Like they're trying to find something."

Her own words were making her feel breathless. She could feel the slow beating in Ulquiorra's chest match the rhythm of hers. Even their breathing was in accordance with each other, as if they were connected.

"I feel like," She began softly, with an almost childish timidity. "That feeling is strongest everytime I talk to Hime. Like, she just guides the way to that place."

Nel could feel the beating in her brother's chest slightly change its pace. She lifted her head to see his expression changed. No longer was it empty, dark, and void.

Neither was he.

"Like she lights up the darkness." He said quietly.

Warmth seeped into her cold body as if she were alive again. She let her head lay against him again and nodded at the appropriate comparison.

"That's perfect." She whispered as her hand curled up on his...

...his heart.

His own cold hand found hers and held it against him in a way that brought her back to when she witnessed a similar moment between him and another girl who loved him.

A girl he had yet to realize he loved back.

Nel smiled.

"My hand probably isn't as warm as Hime's."

He didn't say anything, but held her hand tighter.

"She's warmer than any of us." Nel whispered.

"Nel?"

"Hmm?"

"Where is all of this coming from?" He asked, sounding honestly, almost desperately curious. Nel had been asking herself the same thing.

She had one theory.

She moved both of their hands to the same spot on her own chest. On her 'heart'.

"I think from here." She whispered into the silent night.

* * *

Orihime's senses perked up as she felt two familiar rieatsus approach the floor of her apartment. She looked up from the paragraph of her calculus textbook, and glanced out at the window from where she was sitting at her desk.

Two rieatsus. Both of fairly equal pressure. Both very powerful. One with a smooth, almost carefree flow, while the other with a steady, calm surge. They both got closer and closer, and Orihime could hear faint footsteps until...

_Crash!_

"Ulqui!" A girlish voice scolded

Orihime's pulse was soothed as she felt his energy, heard his name, and heard his violent, habitual method of opening a locked door. Blissful relief pulled her lips into a dreamy smile.

Judging from the way his spiritual pressure softened in accordance with her own serene heartbeat, she guessed that Ulquiorra could feel her too.

_Welcome home._

* * *

Grimmjow stared out the few stars that escaped the blanket of clouds pressed against the night sky. It was only when he was this calm of mind and body that he could truly pay attention to the pleasant oddity of the world around him. Such was true for when he was in Hueco Mundo, and even here in this shitty human world. If there was anything he could find worthwile about this world, it was the scenery. As he stared out at the bits of light sprinkled onto the darkened sky, he recalled seeing a similar light today in cloudy grey eyes.

He brushed off the momentary thought, and returned to finishing his drink of water. He didn't want to spend more time in the middle of the night in their kitchen thinking about today, even if his thoughts revolved around that peculiarly interesting human girl. He was determined to move onto the next day.

All he wanted was to continue moving forward.

Just as he set his cup down and was ready to leave, Ulquiorra stepped through the door, looking just as tired as Grimmjow felt, with a disheveled bedhead and drooping eyes.

"You look like a wreck." Grimmjow said with a bemused smirk.

Ulquiorra shoved past him and opened the pantry for a glass cup. Just as he was about to fill it water, Grimmjow crossed his arms and his smirk grew wider.

"Couldn't sleep?" He couldn't fight of the impish laugh that was lodged in his throat.

Ulquiorra didn't react aside from having his grip tighten dangerously around the cracking glass. At this point, Grimmjow should probably lay off and let the both of them mark a conclusion to the exhausting day.

But what fun would that be?

"Need a hug?" He asked innocently.

The glass shattered into pieces.

_Too easy. _He thought in amusement.

Ever so slowly, Ulquiorra turned his head to Grimmjow, to reveal the thoroughly and satisfyingly aggravated light in his normally imperturbable, emerald eyes.

"How?" He demanded in a voice sharper than the broken glass beneath him.

Grimmjow kicked the dust pan over to his feet and clapped his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Nel talks in her sleep. Night, bro."

There was no way he could let the day end without teasing his brother.

* * *

**A/N: I couldn't resist throwing Grimmjow into the fray at the last second. He's been quite edgy as of late, so I'm hoping this more laid-back side to him is refreshing. Meanwhile, let me know how you feel about Ul's confrontation with the Reapers. It's almost like he and Grimm switched places this chapter...**

**As for Ulquihime, they didn't necessarily interact, but they've been thinking about each other. A LOT. That's gotta count for something, right? *sweatdrops* ****And sorry everyone. They only hugged...but more love is to come!**

**Nel: Yes!**

**Ulquiorra: *facepalms***

**Please review! **


	9. Chapter 9: Solace

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 9: Solace

* * *

**A/N: So much indecision with this chapter...all because I ignorantly assumed I could type it up without musical assistance. Silly me. As always, the final word goes to you wonderful readers. Like I said, I really have not planned anything for this story, so I kind of write blind. Let me know how it's working! **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

_Perhaps it was gluttony that prompted me to consume more souls than I needed. Had I mistaken desire for need? Had it gotten to the point where the emptiness was far too vast to fill with the weakness of human souls? Did I seek stronger prey? Did I crave more to fill the void? I wouldn't know. My memories don't take me so far. It seems as though each ascent to a new level of evolution creates another layer over previous experiences. _

_Murciélago. _

_That was the first thought that passed through the gate of my new conscious the day I had awoken. It was a name that was not mine. I had no name. I had no previous affiliation with such a title, but I simply knew it. It was all I knew. I could recall no prior experiences or memories, so that was the beginning. _

_My beginning. _

_As I first began to absorb the essence of my world through new senses, I realized that I lacked all except one. _

_My sight. _

_I could hear nothing. _

_Taste nothing. _

_Smell nothing. _

_Feel nothing. _

_All was numb sans sight. _

_And so, without my other senses to aid my growth, all I had to rely on were my eyes. To this day, I trust nothing unless my eye deems it worthy of my trust. I believed in nothing unless it reflected in my eyes. Everything revolved around my sight. My eyes saw all. _

_Or so I had believed at the time. _

_The mask dawned by hollows sealed away my identity, covering everything except my eyes, making all of my senses null. I had no concept as to what I truly looked like beneath the mask. From all that I could see at my time of birth, others that had forms identical to mine were solid black figures. _

_I roamed as a being purely white. _

_I did not belong. _

_There was no place that I felt that I truly belonged anywhere, or with anyone. _

_All I had to face the world was my power, my eyes, and my mind. _

_All I had was myself. _

_Yet without knowing who or what I truly was, what I looked like, or what it was meant to truly feel the world around me, I could not truly have myself. _

_So I came to the conclusion that I had nothing. That my existence found its base in nothingness. I knew nothing of myself. Countless souls met their end as my prey; their memories flooded me for a brief high, and then they faded to fill the hollow within me. The moment I found something, it would disappear. _

_All would revert back to nothing._

_The world I existed in was mute, numb, and surreal. _

_Everything passed by without my feeling of any of it. _

_Can memories have value without all senses present to fully take in the experience for everything it was worth? To be only able to watch as an immeasurable amount of time passed enticed no feelings. Even if it did, I had no ways to appreciate any of it. _

_All I did was exist. Persist. Move. See. _

_There was only one moment of that time that proved pivotal; that constituted as something almost meaningful in my existence. _

_Something that was meaningless._

_The alien body that stood rooted to one spot in the endless terrain of sands, did nothing._

_I knew nothing. _

_It said nothing. _

_It heard nothing._

_It tasted nothing. _

_It smelled nothing. _

_It saw nothing. _

_Nothing was its purpose. _

_It was nothing. _

_So it was something akin to me. _

_I sought to see further into this white apparition that belong nowhere in the white sands other than at that very spot. As I joined it, I found solace. _

_Because I found nothing. _

_After that day, the mask was fractured. _

_All that was hidden behind it was relinquished of its binding. Everything poured into me. Every sensation. It should have occured to me that I could finally feel something. Yet, it was irrelevant._

_I had nothing. _

_And that was all I needed. _

From then on, that was what solidified his existence.

Until he realized that he hadn't even begun to truly feel anything. Not until the final piece of nothing was filled with something. Something that had taken residence in that awaiting void, just when he was at the brink of death, the final release into oblivion.

A heart.

It was then that everything was opened to him.

_These feelings that I had once doubted to exist...they now roam free within this empty hollow in my chest, pestering me to say words, do things, react in certain ways...I've gained a variety of responses to different things..._

_If I truly have this 'heart', than how am I a hollow? _

_How do I retain my power? _

_If I'm repainted in the image of a human in this human world, does that change me? _

_I am not human. _

_But I am also no longer a true 'hollow' _

_What am I then? _

Ulquiorra turned his head to the blurry alarm clock placed on his night stand. As he reached to cancel the alarm, he stared at the glowing red numbers that spelt out the ungodly hour.

5:00 a.m.

A whole other hour before he was to wake up.

He reluctantly lifted himself off of his mattress. As he got up, his eye caught his reflection in the mirror.

What appeared before him was like and unlike what he would usually see in mirrors in Las Noches: pale skin, though not the same ghostly pallor; messy black hair, though shorter and messier from just waking up; cold green eyes, though far more reflective and not as dark.

He looked the same and yet he was completely different.

Especially on the inside.

_"I doubt Hime's ever been in love before." _

The words echoed in his head like the call of a siren. At the time, he was unable to stand against Nel's poignant words. His childish sister had lapsed into a serious state of mind as she spoke with him last night; he could tell from the way her spiritual pressure had evened out in a controlled manner, similar to 'Neliel', the former Espada.

Meaning, he couldn't easily dismiss her words as childish ramblings.

Even so, he thought that she was unnecessarily pushing boundaries. Her insistence of some bond between him and the girl was similar to Baraggan's warning to him, except she was _encouraging_ him to embrace such feelings.

Two approaches. One existence. Why was he even supposed to do anything? They both claimed such absurd things about him and whatever he was feeling, but why couldn't Ulquiorra find any closure from himself? Why did he need others to tell him what was going on inside of him? Who was right? Would this 'heart' of his bring pain or would it bring whatever Nel was talking about last night?

Why was he piling such troublesome thoughts in his aching head so early in the morning?

As he pulled the dark curtains aside from his window, he was met with an equally dark sky just before the entrance of dawn. Seeing the sun rise was a marvel that none of the Arrancar had ever experienced in Hueco Mundo.

There had been no sun in the Hollow World. The 'day' below the canopy was something artificial created by Aizen.

There was one thing he could appreciate about this world.

There was light.

* * *

Orihime's eyelids could no longer stay closed as the first crack of light escaped the ends of earth. Lifting herself slowly from the soft embrace of her bed, she smoothed back the ruffled white curtains from her window. Beyond them was the smiling horizon filled with passionate light from where the sky and earth kissed.

Orihime smiled herself as she watched the warm sunrise. It was a rare occasion when she managed to wake at dawn. She was always awake for sunsets, which were equally lovely, but something about the birth of a new day was more soothing to her. Perhaps she could capture this daybreak on a piece of paper as Tatsuki did.

Thinking of her friend reminded her of school. As she turned to see her digital clock, loose locks of her coppery hair slipped from behind her ears, and draped over her shoulders.

5:12 a.m.

Far earlier than she'd ever usually wake up, but she took this as an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of a time of day she never got to spend time with. Still quite sleepy, she gently slid her bare legs off of the silky sheets of her bed and stood to walk to her bathroom. As she slipped into the small space, she turned the sink on and let the chilled water trickle through her fingers before bringing it to her face. She breathed in the coolness, and let her senses revitalize. While brushing her teeth, she noticed something peculiarly alien about her features. Actually, she physically didn't seem any different, but something about the light in her eyes was off. They were as bright as they usually were, but some older gleam glazed their glassy surface in a way that made her eyes more reflective, like the mirror in front of her.

After she finished washing up, she prepared a warm cup of tea for the morning. Warm lines of steam rolled up to kiss the corners of her mouth, prompting her lips to spread in a serene smile. Orihime returned to her room to enjoy the last few stages of the sunrise, but something grabbed her.

Her eyes.

Her body.

Her full attention.

An odd feeling in the air of space at her wall. Something about that space prompted her to walk towards the wall and touch its solid foundation. Her fingers found cold, inflexible, stagnant, dry, white wall and nothing more. Beyond that perception, some force gravitated her, and rooted her to that very spot.

_Is this someone's spiritual pressure?_

It would be months later that Orihime would figure out that Ulquiorra's room was just aside hers.

* * *

Several puny black bugs scattered and buzzed around him in a sporadic way that annoyed him to no end. He hated the damn tiny things that always gaped up at him like he was some damn circus freak.

Well, he and the rest of the Espada were freaks.

Yammy was just the biggest of the freaks.

He had to grit his teeth and clench his huge fists to keep from thrashing the Reapers swarming around him and Baraggan as they made their way to the Soul Society's meeting room. The damn shrimps kept staring up at him in fear, curiosity, and resentment. Granted he was used to all of those things directed towards him by even his hollow comrades, but it was ten times more annoying coming from the damn people he hated the most.

Fucking Soul Reapers.

They kept giving him and his siblings crap for their 'misconduct' out in the streets of Karakura Town. If they didn't like the way the Espada handled their fights, then maybe they should fight their own fucking battles.

Oh right. They're too damn weak.

"We there yet?" He complained to his significant other, whose presence was also setting a fearsome storm of uneasiness throughout the Soul Society.

"Almost." Baraggan grumbled back.

"Can't we just use Sonido to make it there?"

"They don't trust us to use our abilities in their world." He explained bitterly. "If they see us perform any flashy move, the cowards will immediately assume that we are threatening them with an attack."

"Damn bugs..." Yammy growled. "Remind me why the hell I'm here again."

"Given your inability to handle yourself alone in our territory in the city, they won't allow me to leave you alone. They're also strict about the 'two to an area' rule, so you can't join another group."

"So then what the hell do they expect me to do here?"

"Nothing."

Figures. No one expected anything from him, aside from some display of idiocy. Even after his ascent to his seat as an Espada, his comrades saw him as nothing but a dim-witted powerhouse. Not that he cared. Of course he was powerful. He took great pride in his power.

It was all he really had going for him.

"Fucking annoying..." He muttered.

"We've already made it, so enough griping." Baraggan ordered as they reached a gargantuan building.

"Bout damn time..."

The large doors flew open to allow them entrance into the monolithic structure. As they walked in, a whole fleet of Reaper guards stood in parallel lines to border their pathway. As if they could actually do something in the event that one, or both, of them attacked.

At the end of the extensive hall, they reached another wide set of doors that led to a spacious room with several taller, more dignified looking Reapers with white overcoats.

The Captains.

Yammy could feel his mood turn even more sour.

* * *

"How're you feeling?"

Ulquiorra gave a tired sideways glance at Starrk, who had personally decided to drive today. He had been unusually quiet this morning, not that he was ever particularly loud in the first place. It just seemed as though their lazy Primera had quite a bit on his mind. Quite a bit that seemed to be directed at his pale, dark-haired brother, seeing as his eyes kept flicking over to him throughout breakfast.

Ulquiorra could only guess what was in store for him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Why do you not answer?" Starrk shot back.

Ulquiorra brushed a stray dark lock away from his face.

"I suppose I 'feel' fine." He answered uncaringly. "Now answer my question."

Starrk shrugged.

"You seem tired. Didn't sleep?"

Truthfully, he hadn't slept well. The whole night, Ulquiorra had laid awake mulling over yesterday's events, Neliel's lecture, and his own thoughts regarding the whole situation. Sadly, all of that managed to mentally exhaust him, but not enough to put him under the spell of sleep. Even now, he could feel his eyelids struggling to stay up.

Perhaps that's why Starrk seemed so eager to take the wheel this morning.

"Not really." He replied plainly.

Something about the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel seemed foreboding to Ulquiorra.

"I wonder why." He said in that ever dull voice. "I mean, it's not like you ever waste energy on fights and confrontations like Grimmjow or Nnoitra...you're one of our more level-headed guys, right?"

Ulquiorra dared another look into his brother's deep eyes.

"Was it the Reapers?" He asked quietly.

"Actually, Zommari." Starrk replied. "After coming forth from his meditation chamber last night, he came clean to 'purge his mind of anxiety-arousing thoughts', or some crap like that. Just hours later, the Soul Society sent a messenger to call Baraggan for a meeting about it. That's why he and Yammy were gone early this morning."

"With Yammy?" Ulquiorra asked in slight confusion. "They didn't call me to testify?"

"It's not necessarily a jury meeting." Starrk explained. "Besides, they don't want too many people leaving their posts. There won't be a punishment for that reason, too."

Ulquiorra looked over to see his own tired eyes held a bitter light in them.

"They learned from Grimm's incident." He said quietly.

Ulquiorra was finding it increasingly harder and harder to feign indifference as Starrk explained the sender's message. Naturally, the frightened little unit had reported him and his comrades for their intimidation at yesterday's patrol. Luckily, the speedy verdict had been issued that, words alone could not be considered a punishable offense, and that the miniscule injury that he had inflicted on the leader of the unit, hadn't even left a scar; Ulquiorra had been careful not to leave criminalizing evidence of his wrath.

_Wrath..._

_This kind of hateful feeling...this is new, as well._

His thoughts from last night were returning to him. As he reflected the incident, he felt increasingly aggravated; not only because of the ridiculous situation, but also due to his own recklessness. He certainly had been a little more than conflicted yesterday over certain internal matters, but there was no need for him to take his frustration to extremes. He had been right in what he said, but losing his temper like that could have been dangerous to him and his comrades.

Ulquiorra shifted in his seat as they made a turn to enter the school parking lot. Yet another foreign feeling invaded the cramped space in his mind, and the vacuous one in his chest. It gnawed at him from the inside until he recognized it from the way it made him feel resentment, disappointment, and anger.

Guilt.

"To be honest, I'm caught between congratulating you and kicking myself over not being there to see it." Starrk said in an almost carefree voice.

Ulquiorra let out a soundless sigh.

"It was too risky." He said with his eyes looking up to the pale blue of the skies. "Doing something like that may go by unpunished, but it doesn't exactly improve our standings with them."

Starrk looked over at him with a peculiar light in his normally aloof eyes.

"It's not like they were willing to be friendly with us anyway. I'm not saying that's an invitation to start shit with them anytime the mood strikes you."

Ulquiorra rested himself against the leather seat as he listened to his brother's almost...comforting words.

"It's not often you fly off the handle like that." Starrk continued. "I guess that means they really did something wrong, especially if they managed to piss off everyone, including you _and_ Zommari. If that's the case, then the Reapers will dish out punishments to their own. We're more valuable than they are."

His last words mirrored what Ulquiorra had said to the Reaper unit yesterday. Except that, in his eyes, despondency replaced the malice that had been in Ulquiorra's eyes.

"They just refuse to accept that truth."

With that, they parked in their usual spot and got out of the car. As usual, their daily walk to class caught the eye of every student, teacher, and faculty member that happened to cross their path. Perhaps they were quite distinctive after being in a world of death for so long. Certain hollows simply had features that reflected the characteristics of their Menos forms. As a Vasto Lorde, Ulquiorra was born with white outer shell and mask, apart from several other hollows of his kind that were darkly colored.

_The mask concealed you. _A set of words strung together in his mind._ Perhaps that explains why your expression is so rigid. _

He shook his head lightly.

_Don't bring that up. _He replied back.

He would not think anymore of those memories. They only ever pestered him whenever he was extremely tired.

They were all he could dream of.

"I'm surprised you've managed to not bump into any walls or people." Starrk mused from his left.

Ulquiorra brushed back a few dark bangs. "I'm tired. Not disoriented."

"Ul-san!"

The both of them turned around to see a female Physics teacher running towards them with a stack of papers.

"Oh, I'm so glad I found you!" She breathed out.

"May I help you, sensei?" He asked the woman.

"Ul-san, you're the best aid we have at this school." She smiled knowingly. "So I was hoping that if you weren't busy, you could grade these extra credit papers for me. I can't do it now since my sister has gone into labor. I'm counting on you to finish, because I have to go! You're the best!"

She blazed off down the hall, blissfully assuming that Ulquiorra had actually agreed to her request before she dumped it on him. He simply stared at the thick stack of dead trees.

"Well-" Starrk would have began in a sarcastic quip, but another teacher arrived just in time to interrupt him.

"Ul-san!" A teacher pulling a heavy cart of boxes. "We need to get these new textbooks replaced in each Calculus class! Please help! You're so efficient at this kind of delivery."

"Actually-"

"Oh thank you!" The teacher bowed and ran off in the direction of her classroom.

"Okay-" Starrk began in annoyance.

"UL!"

A sharp whistle blew in their direction, and Starrk and Ulquiorra didn't even need to look to see the boisterous Physical Fitness teacher clamoring their way.

"WE'VE CAUGHT DELINQUENTS SNEAKING OFF FROM CAMPUS, BUT OUR TRUANCY OFFICERS ARE ALL SICK WITH SOME ILLNESS FROM OUR CAFETERIA FOOD! GO FIND THE DAMN BRATS AND MAKE 'EM PAY FOR SKIPPING OUT ON THEIR EDUCATION!"

"Uh, sensei I-"

"GREAT! WE CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU UL!"

"Ul-san!"

"Ul-taaaan, the art club needs more supplies!"

"Ul-san, do you have a minute?"

"Ul-chan, help please?"

"Ul-san, thanks for your help!"

Within minutes, Ulquiorra had a stack of papers in one crook of his arm, two boxes balanced on one shoulder, and a cart of textbooks to haul, and a clipboard of skipping students dangling from his hand.

Starrk gaped at the entire load piled upon his brother. Ulquiorra sighed again and struggled to settle everything on the cart of books. As he stood straight, he raked his messy bangs back and looked to Starrk for any words of...well, anything really.

All he received was a blank, disbelieving stare.

"Huh. Guess, I spoke too soon..."

On cue, Ulquiorra cracked his knuckles.

"I don't suppose you're going to offer any assistance 'sensei'?" He asked almost bitterly.

"Ah, can't. Got a class to attend to, plus...that literally looks like a nightmare." The Espada shuddered at, of all things, as load of errands.

Ulquiorra, while displeased with the huge workload, reluctantly craned his neck to loosen the tense muscles. This was going to be a long day.

"Well, I'll see you later. Hopefully." Starrk clapped his shoulder. "Later bro. I'll bring _three_ cups of coffee."

"Hn." Ulquiorra muttered as he waved goodbye to his brother as he disappeared behind the hall. The first bell rang, signaling the start of class and the start of Ulquiorra's headache. He cracked his knuckles again before staring at the cart.

_How can I divide this up?_

Just as he formulated a plan of action, his cell phone rang aloud. He slipped it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Yes? What is it Nnoitra?"

As people passed by in the halls, they could see the foreign teacher aid's face as expressionless as ever, but a bone-chilling, dark aura settled over him as he listened to whoever this 'Nnoitra' was on the other end of the call.

"What do you mean you're in jail?"

The headache intensified.

"I know what a jail is, smart-ass." Ulquiorra muttered back. "I'm busy, so ask your partner. Zommari too? And him? Fine. I'll figure something out. Keep Wonderweiss away from anyone there."

As he hung up, Ulquiorra combed his hair back in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at his unwanted to-do list. Of all things, he couldn't leave in a car, since he couldn't leave this post (and he didn't trust himself out on the road when he was dead tired), so the truancy job and bailing his brother out wasn't an option. Someone else needed to do it.

He knew someone who was free...but was it worth it?

As he paced around the cart, he nearly stumbled from a throbbing wave to his head. He pressed his palm to his forehead and winced at the pain.

_Yes_. The words formed in his head. _Yes it is_.

_I agree... _He replied helplessly.

He sighed before he flipped his cell phone open again.

"Hey. It's Ulquiorra. I know you have Caller ID." He said with depleting patience. "Listen. I have a favor to ask..."

* * *

The meeting dragged on endlessly. As expected, Yammy stood bored out of his mind in the back, waiting for Baraggan to finish, get his point across, have a shallow 'I understand' from the Head Captain, and leave so they could return home with nothing changed.

Yeah it was pessimistic, but who the fuck could actually believe the bull coming from these Reapers?

Yammy had been doing his best to tune out the annoying drivel coming from the damn captains. He didn't even need to pay attention to know that their Espada King was outmatched in this debate.

He didn't know shit about politics, but he definitely knew how to count. The moment Baraggan made some valid point in favor of the Espada, he was shot down by some counterattack from a Captain.

_What a load of crap..._

To Yammy, extended arguments were a waste of time and breath.

_Full of fallacious conjectures. _As Ulquiorra would say.

Yammy's face tightened into a sour grimace every time he heard Ulquiorra's name echo repeatedly in the spacious room, like a pestering parrot squawking in his ear. The reason they were here was because of their apathetic comrade, whose well of apathy seemed to have run bone dry since the events of last night.

On some level, it satisfied Yammy that their unflappable, straight-laced brother finally got pissed off enough to get sent some disciplinary notice; likewise, it irritated him that Ulquiorra let something so insignificant melt away that perfect indifference of his.

That was Ulquiorra. Mister Fucking Perfect. Even if he wasn't the Primera Espada, Aizen trusted Ulquiorra the most. Probably because the guy was efficient at everything he did, and made it look so effortless.

Damn guy.

It always incensed Yammy whenever they were paired for an assignment by Aizen. He didn't think much of it at first, but after time he came to the truth that Ulquiorra was set to be some kind of babysitter for him. It pissed him off endlessly, but Yammy kept quiet about it. It already riled him up whenever someone managed to one-up him; with Ulquiorra, it seemed like Yammy was shown up twenty fold.

So this little meeting to get called out on Mister Perfect's bad behavior gave him mixed feelings.

How could someone like him get so trumped by shit like this? The Ulquiorra he knew was too damn smart to slip up over something stupid. Even an idiot like Yammy could see his mistake. It pissed him off when people better than him had their mistakes overlooked. If it had been Yammy, not only would he have been ridiculed for his stupidity, but no one would be surprised.

Obviously. He was an idiot after all. He always had been. If he had been any smarter, maybe he wouldn't have treated his evolution as some all-you-can-get power feast. Maybe he would have tried for a boost in intelligence.

But no. He was indulgent. He was an idiot.

Ulquiorra wasn't an idiot like him, so it pissed him off that he made a mistake the Yammy probably would have if he were in the same situation (except he would have killed the damn Reapers and in turn gotten himself killed). He was supposed to be better. He had always been better. All of his comrades were better than him. No matter how much fucking godly power Yammy had, his comrades were still better. They never fell as easily as he did, especially by those two damn Captains (the two bastards were here in his vicinity, making him even angrier). That's why it enraged him that Ulquiorra 'died' before Yammy did. To some fucking substitute Soul Reaper kid.

The bastard was supposed to be his superior. If he was put down so low, then what did that say for Yammy? Did that put him down even lower?

Even now, he could still hear the haunting echo of Ulquiorra's name reverberate in the small space. He hated the sound of it from those Reapers' voices. No doubt they were all shaming his brother. The pale bastard wasn't even here to defend himself.

They had the nerve to speak down about him? When he could fucking single-handedly annihilate every impotent weakling in each Captain's division? Each weakling that needed him and his comrades to fight off the monsters they _should_ be strong enough to fight in the first place? Violent rage enticed Yammy to stain the white Soul Society red with the blood of all of those weak Reapers.

He couldn't afford to do that.

So he didn't kill. He just yelled.

He yelled so loud the foundation shook from his thunderous wrath. He yelled at them all to shut their damn mouths about Ulquiorra and the rest of the Espada. They all just stared as he roared. Baraggan didn't look as apprehensive, but his scarred eyes widened fractionally. They all bore witness to the fury of a ravenous beast. That's pretty much what he sounded like the whole time. Was it all just sound to them as he yelled for his comrades? Probably.

He was just an acrimonious idiot after all.

Calamitous rage was all he knew.

* * *

Orihime waved back to her circle of friends as she walked down the hall and deeper into the heart of the school. In all of the chaotic euphoria of lunch break, she had mistakenly left her lunch bag in the classroom. To passerby students and teachers, she was seemingly merry as she glided through the nearly empty halls, but a faint anxiety swirled about in her chest.

Behind the smile, she was obsessively chanting her wishes like a hypnotic mantra in her head.

_Please be empty, please be empty, please be empty..._

Her wish was not granted.

As she hesitantly slid the door open with a trembling hand, her eyes fell upon the tall, lean form of the Primera Espada, a.k.a her sensei. Her surprised grey eyes immediately darted up to his pale blue ones.

"O-oh...hello." She mumbled shyly.

"You're back." Starrk noted coolly.

"U-um, yes. I-I just forgot my bag in here."

"That one?" He jerked his head at her seat near the window.

"Yeah, that's it!"

"Kay, but be quiet about it." He said uncaringly. "Wouldn't wanna wake sleeping beauty over there."

"Over...?" She glanced around in puzzlement.

Starrk moved to the side to reveal the front of the classroom: his desk and the spot near the table where his class aid sat.

His sleeping class aid to be exact.

"Ulquiorra?" She said in confusion.

"Hn." Her sensei nodded his head. "He dozed off near the end of class. Been trying to wake him for a while now. I suppose this is payback for all those other days he had to drag my limp ass outta this place."

"That's...different." Orihime mumbled. She remembered stealing a glance at him this morning, and gaping at how zombie-like he looked. She noticed his absence from class, which Starrk had explained was because of a mass of tasks that had been piled up on him this morning. When he came back, he looked absolutely fatigued. Even if he was exhausted, it seemed so unlike him to let his guard down in such a public place. The sudden fluctuations in his rieatsu yesterday made her curious as to what happened on their patrol yesterday.

Why had his aura felt so tenebrous?

"Yeah." Starrk muttered. "He needs to get up."

His sleepy eye then darted down to her with that soft light she recognized a few weeks ago.

"U-um..." She began, but he interrupted her.

"Well, I'll leave the rest to you." He said conclusively as he began to walk out the door. "Do your best and be careful. I'm counting on you."

_Huh?! _

"Huh?! B-but, Starrk-!"

"That's 'sensei' Starrk, dear." He corrected from down the hall. Before he had left, Orihime noticed the slightest upturn of his lip in an amused smirk.

And that's how Orihime ended up alone in a classroom with a sleeping hollow.

She inhaled deeply to calm her accelerating pulse, and painstakingly turned herself to face her seat. Taking slow, silent strides, she tediously tiptoed over to her seat and carefully removed her bag without making a sound.

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Her immediate inclination was to leave in a hurry, but something too tempting to ignore distracted her.

Something with glossy black hair spilled over one of his closed emerald eyes.

_You are strong...you can ignore it...no you can't..._

Orihime couldn't resist taking one quick glance at him. Of course, one quick glance led to her inching closer and closer until she was hovering over his stretched out form. She was so close that she had to hold back her long, titian tresses from spilling down to his pale face.

It was him, right?

She could barely recognize Ulquiorra with such a relaxed expression. As calm as he always seemed, there was never a moment when he wasn't alert. Orihime attributed that to his fighter's instinct, but also to what a perceptive and analytic person he was. It was relieving to know that even he could find peace in slumber.

Her initial uneasiness melted away, the way it always did whenever she was with him. What was she supposed to be nervous of? A sleeping boy er...man? Adult? Elderly?

How old was Ulquiorra anyway?

From this perspective, he didn't physically appear to be much older than her and her friends. He was one of the younger looking Espada, though they all took varying adult forms. He and the rest had to be ages above her, considering how long they had been in Hueco Mundo.

_"...he didn't have to suffer for so long..." _

_"Lucky him."_

Her chest ached at the memory. He told her that it didn't matter, but how could he expect her to believe him with that sad look in his eyes?

_I wish I could say sorry, but you'd probably scold me again. _

She reached out to smooth the black bangs away from his eyes. It always marveled her how soft his hair was. Compared to the rest of his stiff and cold self, it was nice how at least one part of him was nice to the touch.

_Actually...all of you feels nice Ulquiorra. _

"Do you always touch people without their permission?"

She flinched back at the sound of his blunt voice. In a heartbeat, one green eye cracked open to stare up at her surprised expression. Orihime caught her breath as a short gasp.

"Oh! You scared me..." She breathed out, and placed her hand over her racing heart. A blush tinged her cheeks as his words replayed in her head.

"H-hey!" She stumbled over her flustered words. "D-don't make me sound like that kind of person!"

"Then don't act like 'that kind of person'." He said plainly.

"I don't!"

"At least you managed to keep your composure this time." He noted calmly, as he sat up straighter to look at her with both emotionless emerald eyes.

"This time? Oh yeah..." She said softly as she recalled their little moment in her room at Las Noches. "Well, that's what happens when I find you sleeping in random places."

He lightly rubbed the tiredness out of his half-lidded eyes.

"I suppose your right."

Wordlessly, he stood from the chair to his full height, and darted his eyes to the empty seats.

"I guess you slept through the bell." Orihime observed with an awkward smile.

Still silent, he only curtly nodded and sat on the edge of the teacher's desk. From the way he could barely keep his eyelids and head up, she could tell that he was still half-asleep.

Tentatively, Orihime took a seat next to him, close enough so that her shoulder brushed against his. Even through the two layers of fabric that separated them, she could feel the iciness from his skin.

"What's wrong?" She asked gently. "You're _really_ tired today. Did something happen?"

Somehow, she felt that it wasn't in her place to ask something that really was none of her business. Yet, Ulquiorra wasn't daunted by her question. It was becoming easier to talk to him, seeing as he had become quite more lenient with others. She didn't even feel chills when his sharp eyes drifted over to her.

"Um, bad night sleep?" She asked as a mere suggestion. She certainly didn't expect him to nod his head in confirmation.

"O-oh...I guess that explains why you dozed off today." She mumbled, lacing her fingers in her lap. "I mean, you looked super exhausted when you came back from running errands. Starrk said it was a lot."

His tired eyes blinked as he nodded slowly.

"It's what you get for being so efficacious." She said with a soft smile. "At least you managed to get it all done, right?"

"Hn..." He raked his messy black hair back. "There's still the patrol to go to directly after school."

"Oh right." She nodded along. "I met with Grimmjow and Ichigo while they were out on theirs yesterday. They told me how late it lasts. It's so unreasonable." She mumbled in slight displeasure.

She could feel Ulquiorra shrug half-heartedly next to her. When Orihime looked over, she could see that his usual look of indifference was darkened by the bitter resentment in his slitted eyes.

"I wouldn't have faith in those Reapers to give any fair negotiation."

The acidity in his voice made her wince. It made her heart lurch to hear such bad things being said about her comrades, but on the other hand, the Reapers had said equally horrible things about the Espada. Where was the line of reason and peace safe from spiteful prejudice?

"I know that they're giving you a hard time, but not all of them are like that." She explained softly.

"Wouldn't that be bias on your part?" He threw back at her.

"Of course it is." She answered dutifully. "Just like how you're biased in favor of the Espada, right?"

Something flashed in those iridescent emerald eyes of his, but Orihime refused to waver under their intensity.

"You know that I'm not wrong." She insisted with a foreign sharpness in her light voice.

"I do." He muttered. "That's what vexes me."

Orihime sighed defeatedly, even though she won.

"I know." She said soothingly, almost apologetically. "But there's no way to make the truth any less harsh."

"Why does this sound familiar?"

"Because you're the one who's been playing these cards against me for a while now." She nudged his arm with a smile on her lips.

"Of all times to heed my words, you choose now?" He turned to her with an almost annoyed look on his face.

Orihime shrugged innocently.

"You brought it upon yourself." She lilted softly. "Ever hear of 'a taste of your own medicine'?"

"Has it always tasted this bitter?" He asked quietly.

"Kind of." Orihime murmured, relaxing her arm against his ever so slightly. "But it always works."

A brief silence passed by slowly. In that time, they simply sat together, indulging in each other's presence, ignorant of the world moving without them. Orihime felt as though the dim classroom that encased them, was the whole world right now, and Ulquiorra was the only one to inhabit it with her. She never would have though that being alone with her former captor would give her such solace. Orihime always thought that she knew every inch and dimension of herself; Ulquiorra took every opportunity he could to prove her wrong by finding something new in her.

"Did you sleep well?" She murmured lightly.

"I was dreaming the whole time." He replied back.

"Dreaming?" She looked up in curiosity.

His eyes found hers for a moment before falling downcast. Did Orihime see a disquieted glimmer in those fearless eyes?

"Um...I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She mumbled, feeling slightly guilty.

"How many times have I told you not to give out pointless apologies?" He sighed quietly.

She allowed herself a small laugh.

"My mistake." She smiled to herself. "I'm still a work in progress. Though I think we all have our own kinks that we need to work out. I think you can agree." Orihime gestured to his fluttering eyelids.

"I've had better days." He murmured in a sleepy daze.

Orihime couldn't resist the smile that flirted at the corner of her lips. It was cute how tired he sounded. The sleepiness slurred his words to a low rumble in his husky voice.

"I suppose we all have those days." She said softly.

"They're coming more and more frequently for me." He said regretfully.

Orihime could feel her heart constrict slightly.

"Is it too much to handle?" She asked tentatively.

Surprisingly, he shook his head in disagreement, making a few of his short raven locks sift from side to side.

"R-really?"

"If it was, I would have sent myself back to those lab cages a long time ago." He said vapidly.

"Please don't bring that up." She mumbled weakly.

She could feel his head turn in her direction, but Orihime couldn't bear to see her melancholy reflected in those piercing eyes. She blinked back the threat of tears that prickled in the corner of her eyes.

"Fine." He said almost softly.

Orihime took a breath to calm herself down. It may have seemed ridiculous to get all worked up over something bad that hadn't even happened to her, but she couldn't help feeling so guilty over it. No matter how much Ulquiorra feigned indifference, she knew that any kind of pain affected someone tremendously.

How did Ulquiorra feel?

She had been asking herself this same question ever since the day of her rescue from Las Noches, from Hueco Mundo, from the man she was sitting next to. The moment his hand reached out for hers, she knew something in him had changed. Had he finally come to understand the feelings that everyone, even he, had? Could he feel something now, as he was with her in this empty, half light and half dark room? He told her that there was something there to replace the hole that left him empty and void. There were times between them that the steady rhythm of his pulse calmed her like a lullaby, and assured her that there was something there for him to hold any precious sentiments.

He had to have a heart. How else could he inspire such passion in her young, simple heart? She couldn't fathom how a man so soulless, as when she first met him, could fill her with so much ardor.

_How do you 'love' something that isn't alive? _

_You tell me, Ulquiorra. _

"By the way," He suddenly said quietly.

"Mm?"

"You're touching me again."

"Huh?"

As she looked down, Orihime found her fingertips intertwined with his own. Her immediate reaction would have been to jerk her hand back and mumble apologies in embarrassment.

For anyone else.

"Oh." She breathed out calmly.

He didn't necessarily respond to her touch, but neither did he object to it. Orihime hesitantly slid her soft palm against his coarse one, and he accepted it.

"Does this bother you?" She couldn't help but ask.

It took him a while to respond. Orihime followed his line of vision to their joined hands. How odd that the curves and edges of their hands fit perfectly against each other, like two halves of a heart.

"Not really." Ulquiorra said again in that soft, sleepy voice. "You've done worse."

"Like?"

"Do I have to say it?"

"No. Then is it okay for me to apologize for that?"

"I didn't mind it. So you don't have to."

"Would you mind if it happened again?"

"Probably not."

Orihime had no idea how their soft, whispered words melted together to create this outcome of her standing just inches from where he was still sitting on the desk. Now her silvery eyes could look down at him the way his glittering emerald ones always did to her. The copper hair finally slipped free and gently cascaded like streams of sunlight down her shoulders. Likewise, his onyx locks were oriented in perfect disarray that enraptured her like nightfall. Yet again, Orihime found herself reaching out to brush those glossy black strands away from his entrancing emerald eyes. Her other hand was still enveloped in his.

"It's okay?" She whispered so softly as if her words were as fragile as glass.

Without words, he agreed by taking his free hand to smooth back her own long and oppositely bright strands of burnt orange hair.

Within minutes, Orihime and Ulquiorra could feel themselves enclosed in another warm embrace.

Yet again, the smaller strands of his midnight hair interwove with her sunset locks.

Yet again, their hearts were directly against each other, pulsating in slow accordance to their own unique cadence.

Yet again, their foreheads pressed against one another as if they were in love.

Orihime wondered what else would have happened if the bell hadn't rang.

* * *

Starrk watched as Grimmjow mounted off of the motorcycle to deposit the school's expected delivery of high school delinquents.

All four of whom were beaten senselessly, and tied to an uprooted stop sign. The blue-haired Espada unceremoniously dug the metal post into the ground with enough force to break the concrete beneath them.

"Sometime, there's going to be a road accident uptown." Grimmjow shrugged carelessly. "But at least these silly juveniles have been saved from corruption and are back in the safe haven of education. Or some shit like that, right?"

Starrk yawned uncaringly as he lifted the stick of listless highschoolers over his shoulder effortlessly.

"So long as we get paid for it, I'm happy." He muttered. "Whose is that anyway?" He gestured at the slick black vehicle.

"One of theirs." He pointed unabashedly to the teenager he had thoroughly bludgeoned. "Took it for a joyride since walking with these fuckers would be way too troublesome."

A wry grin spread on his lips as he jingled the keys in his hand.

"It's mine now though."

"Mmm..." Starrk nodded his head calmly, but was fighting off a bemused smirk. "Okay then. I'll be sure to let Ul know that he owes you."

"Heh." Another sly grin tugged at the Sexta Espada's lips. "He already knows. He called me back after I got Nnoitra, Zommari, and Weiss outta the slammer."

"And how'd you do that?" Starrk asked with slight curiosity.

"Sweet talked the warden. Flirted a bit." He shrugged again, then shoved Starrk's shoulder playfully as he saw the quizzical look on his face. "Shut up, it was a chick. Hot one, too. Anyway, Ul texted the list of runaways, so I got 'em and a few extra just for the sake of it."

"So you're feeling pretty good about yourself right now?" Starrk asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You dropped spoony and Zommari off at their posts?"

"Yeah." He replied as he cracked his knuckles.

"So what are you gonna ask from Ulquiorra?" Starrk asked with another yawn.

Grimmjow clucked his tongue and smirked as he slid his hand over the smooth front of the motorcycle.

"He's gotta convince the old man to let me keep the bike. Pass on the message."

With that, he revved up the engine and sped down the road, working the machine flawlessly as if he had been riding all his life. Starrk complied with his request and told Ulquiorra at the start of class after the lunch break had ended.

For whatever reason, ever apathetic Ulquiorra seemed oddly obliging...

* * *

Yammy and Baraggan had arrived home late after the meeting. So late that they had missed most of the hours of patrol. Since they were pardoned from going in at such late hours, they headed straight for Casa Espada.

It would be another number of minutes until the rest of the Espada were able to return home. Before stomping off to his room, Yammy noticed a deep blue cell phone laying on the glass table of their living room.

It was Grimmjow's, he knew, since the Soul Society wouldn't let him take it out on patrol with him. A light was flashing in the corner, indicating that there was an unread notification. Feeling bored, Yammy swiped the tiny device and flipped it open out of curiosity.

He almost wished he hadn't.

**You have one unread message. 8:48 p.m.**

**From: Ulquiorra**

Yammy's beady eyes droned over the three-word message a few times before setting the cellular device back on the table so that no one would have suspected that it had ever been tampered with. With that, he walked down the hall to the silent solace of his room.

**Ulquiorra: **Thanks for today.

1:05 p.m.

_What did he do to earn your thanks?_

* * *

**A/N: Poor Yammy. Sorry to end off on a depressing note, but I had to squeeze that in somehwere. Hopefully my interpretation of Yammy appeals to you. I've always had the feeling that he isn't as dumb as everyone thinks he is...**

**Meanwhile, let me know if this chapter flowed along alright. I feel like it was oddly imbalanced. ****That Ulquihime scene was a little embarrassing to write, but I hope it gets their feelings across. What other than a hug to sweeten a relationship? Aside from other activities...but let's cross that bridge when we reach it...**

**As for what Nnoi and Mari were in jail for...I'll let your imaginations run wild. Thumbs up for Grimm snagging a motorcycle? We needed some of him in this chapter, right? **

**Please review and critique! **


	10. Chapter 10: Lyrical

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 10: Lyrical

* * *

**A/N: An oddly mellow chapter written at the last second after a week of writer's block. I feel like it sucks...please bear with me...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ulquiorra found himself in the same scene as the last morning, laying awake in his bed at the lightless hour of five o' clock in the morning. As expected since the events of yesterday, his mind was a tempest of the same pestering thoughts dragging him away from much needed rest. Around the time that midnight draped itself over the rest of the sleeping town, he had become desperate for any remedy to expel the insomnia.

He lifted the slim device to hover over his eyes. Their lusterless green reflected off of the glass screen, just as the time and album cover appeared in the green expanse. Like his plaguing thoughts, the melodies ran with him throughout the night, but orchestrated a sleeping spell on him. While he preferred instrumentals, Ulquiorra chose something with lyrics to drown out his own mental musings.

Lilynette had taken it into her own liberty to download the album onto Ulquiorra's phone for the simple fact that he hadn't objected to it when it played on the radio during their car ride to a recent patrol.

_"I bet you'd like their other songs too." She said with such confidence. "You look like you could use some enjoyment in this life. Trust me, you'll thank me once you need these tunes, bro."_

He hadn't really thought about it at the time, and simply permitted her to do as she pleased in hopes of avoiding another nagging session from her. As it turned out, he'd need to thank his little sister for her meddlesome antics later.

With a calm breath, he paused the song, and sat up to run his fingers through his messy black hair. As he brushed back a few dark bangs, his senses perked at the presence of another...

Then immediately evened out in relief.

_I was wondering when you would put an end to that same hymn._

Ulquiorra closed his eyes in sweet serenity.

_It slipped my mind that you could hear too. _He thought back apologetically.

As the rest of the world was blacked out, his senses combined to create the image, sound, and sensation of ebony black wings ruffling in a similar manner to a shrug.

_If the sound alleviates the insomnia, then I approve of it for your health. Likewise, I have no complaints. The melody is...comforting. _

_I thought the same. _Ulquiorra replied. _I've noticed a disturbance in your flow as well. Is that why you've been more talkative lately?_

The image of pale lips pulling back in a subtle smirk flooded his closed vision. From inside his head, an actual sound of a low growl, which he assumed was a chuckle, stimulated his auditory sense.

_Perhaps. _Came the amused answer. _Could it be your sickness is contagious?_

_Would you call it a sickness?_

_What else is a phenomenon that hinders basic functioning?_

_A distraction?_

Those inky black wings ruffled back again.

_Then we've both become distracted. _

From the depths of nothingness beyond his closed eyelids, a phantasmal vision captured every sense of his, connected to every inch of him, and enveloped him in a cimmerian haze.

Once again, all he had was his eyes.

Reflected in their lustrous surface was fluid skin of a ghostly pallor, accentuated by a contrastingly dark crown of spikes, and black-winged lashes bordering a prismatic, emerald gaze.

This being before him took a form incongruous to his own, but mirrored each color of his flawlessly. The eyes, unlike his in their narrow shape, held the same magnetic intensity, and inhumanly slitted, black pupil. Behind the masterfully sculpted form were wings, darkly alluring twins that had belonged to only one in the Hollow World.

_It's been a long time since I've seen you, Murciélago. _

There was that sirenic stoicism ever present on that familiar pale face.

_Not too long. _Was the voiceless answer.

As a Vasto Lorde roaming the sandy terrain of Hueco Mundo, Ulquiorra had always attributed his lack of auditory sense as to why he never knew what Murciélago sounded like. It was only until he had become an Arrancar had he discovered his inner hollow had no voice. The only sound that his hollow was capable of making were a few low growls, purrs, and roars, despite the humanoid appearance. Whenever they communicated, anything Murciélago wanted to say would appear as words in Ulquiorra's mind, as if they simply materialized from his cognition.

_You look the same as ever. _He noted with calm contentment.

His hollow nodded in agreement.

_I have remained stagnant for our time together. You, however, have gone through quite the metamorphosis._

_What's your evaluation of it? _Ulquiorra shifted uncomfortably under that penetrating gaze.

_Mmm...different, but...intriguing..._

_How so?_

_Don't mistake me, Ulquiorra. Your physical appearance has only been slightly altered. Your essence is what has evolved the most. _

_Essence...?_

_Yes...that ever frigid air about you has considerably warmed. It seems a calm has been settled over you. _Murciélago considered this by bringing a fine dark claw up to that contemplative, ghost of a smile.

_Haven't I always been calm? _He asked in slight confusion.

_Perhaps, serene is the right word. _

_Those words are synonymous. _

_You're incorrigible. _The dark being mused. _Though I suppose, that will never change. _

_You rarely ever engage in a long discussion like this with me. _Ulquiorra pointed out. _Are you that bored?_

Guttural purring hummed from the slightly smirking lips of the vampiric creature, which Ulquiorra identified as a laugh.

_Ever the blunt man. No, I simply wanted to really see your change. _The deep jade eyes traced over him in wonder. _It's amazing how much you've grown. _

_Grown?_

_Your understanding has expanded to such broader horizons, and yet you've become so narrow minded. It sounds paradoxical, but it's true that you've been doing a lot of internal searching ever since you've gotten closer to that woman. _

_You too? _Ulquiorra thought back in irritation.

_Of course. _Came the simple answer. _You can denounce any other conjecture from anyone else, but no one knows you better than I, Ulquiorra. _

The former Espada let his emerald eyes fall downcast.

_...Well, as of yet. _Murciélago added suggestively.

_And?_

_And, I've experienced everything you have since we were resurrected from death. This 'heart' that she has given you is something that I feel as well. Of course it inspires new sensations within you. I witnessed the beginnings of this development since your time with her in Hueco Mundo. Your initial interest in her was reinforced by my craving for her soul. In that sense, we wanted her._

An amused light returned to the mesmerizing, green gaze before him.

_Don't look so surprised. Did you honestly think I wouldn't be turned on by such a tantalizing girl? Especially when you're always holding her like that._

_Don't use those words and their connotations. _Ulquiorra warned. _And I'm not always..._

_Hmmm...fine. Don't worry, I won't touch her. _Murciélago's pale features smoothed back into their normal stoic set._ Such fine-aged purity is rare nowadays. That new heart of yours fills me with the sentiment to treasure that instead of mindlessly ravage it._

_You make her sound like a bottle of liquor. _

_Maybe that's what she's reminiscent of to me. She does intoxicate us in such a way though, right? Her sincerity is what keeps you up at night. _

_That among other things. _

_There's no way for you to brush off those thoughts, Ulquiorra. I feel them too. It's clear that the girl is the cause of your change in...everything really. You may not know it, but she has altered you in a way that is irreversible. _

_Is that a bad thing?_

_I'm not sure yet. So far, the only malignant side effect of her influence has been your restlessness. _

Purrs of contemplation escaped those colorless lips as Murciélago ran a gleaming, black claw through an identically glossy black spike of hair.

_Not just her. _Ulquiorra said regretfully. _There are other problems that have been fogging my mind. _

Those emerald eyes so identical to his own were closed off by pale eyelids and and oppositely dark lashes. Just as they closed, Ulquiorra felt his own flutter open to his dark room.

_Such as the one that resulted in you having to wear that chain around you neck?_

Ulquiorra's fingers traced up to the silver pendant hanging from a chain at his neck, like a victim at the gallows. The center piece was designed to look like a stereotypical soul; how cruelly ironic that the puny piece of silver was what sealed off his spiritual pressure. After returning from the streets, Ulquiorra met with Baraggan to be informed of the Soul Society's order on his threats to the Reapers. The elder Arrancar's display of the necklace was harshly laconic, but the penitence in those aged eyes was what truly stung him. They both saw parallels to the necklace and the collars forced on them in the lab cages. The memory of those degrading leashes sickened Ulquiorra, but he didn't hesitate to fasten the chain around his neck.

He knew better than to resist orders.

The cold chain felt heavier than it really was. Having the cartoonish representation of a soul suspended just at the base of where his hollow hole used to be seemed like a mockery to his identity as a hollow.

He regretted it when despondency fell on the both of them like a vaporous poison. The image of verdant eyes darkening brought that feeling of guilt to him again, except the feeling wasn't his alone.

_It seems as though I can still entice you to vile rage. _The hollow words burned the inside of his mind. _That's something else that won't change. Forgive me._

_There's nothing to forgive. _Ulquiorra brushed back his bangs. _The choice to unleash our power was mine alone. The punishment isn't so grave, even if I consider it an insult to you. Still, it's better than having you taken away from me. I'll never let that happen._

For a while his mute hollow had no words. Ulquiorra waited wordlessly in the darkness of his room until he felt a sudden serenity embrace him.

_Thank you, Ulquiorra. _

_Always. _

After a few more silent moments, Ulquiorra concluded that his hollow was done talking, and resting to the rhythmic beating in his no longer vacant chest. Hesitantly, he brought his pale fingertips to the pulsating spot just beneath the wintery white shield of skin. Despite being cold to the touch, the steady beat radiated a new warmth that had never been there before.

All until the icy silver pendant brushed against his knuckles.

With reluctance, Ulquiorra lifted himself off of his bed to get ready for a new day.

* * *

The last time he had felt so lucid was during his evolution into the feline Adjucha. The first memory from what he signified as his new existence was of him crouched upon the remains of a colony of Gillian. His new claws were not unsoiled at his rebirth, but bloodstained. He could still taste the sanguine innards that coated his new fangs.

He had been reborn a corrupt creature.

At the time, he vaguely acknowledged this, seeing as he was so awed by his full bodily and cognitive transformation. From what he could feel of himself, his form had become far more animalistic, no longer bipedal, and yet his thought process had truly evolutionized. As a Gillian, his basic mental functioning revolved around survival: eating, resting, and defending himself. As an Adjucha, he was a new individual.

It wasn't like feeling alive again, but close.

He could understand basic concepts. He was a hunter, he was keenly instinctual, he was some form of feline, and he was male.

How odd that the sense of having a gender hadn't even occured to him. Menos Grande were formed by the mass consumption of a myriad of souls, human and hollow alike, that manifested into a single entity. They all looked distinctly the same, but each one had different memories. Perhaps he had simply preyed upon more male souls. Or maybe at the very beginning, his existence began with the hollowfication of a lost male soul. He didn't know. Far too much time had passed for him to remember. His memories only went as far back as that life-changing day. The first thought that passed through the gate of his new conscious still echoed in his head.

_Pantera. _

That was where it began.

He hadn't known what he looked like until he found his second victim. In the Hollow World, there were no reflective surfaces, so not many hollows knew exactly what they looked like. It made him curious as to what it was about his new form that inspired fear in his prey, aside from his intense power of course. The only time he ever saw his reflection was in the eyes of his prey just before they lost their luster at final death.

Each time he killed, he saw himself, and what he had become.

He saw the light that swam in the new blue of his eyes.

He never wanted to lose that new light. So he continued to kill. He never wanted to regress back to a simplistic beast. So he continued to kill. He never wanted to lose the feeling closest to being almost alive. So he continued to kill.

He never wanted to lose sight of who he was.

And he never did. His reflection was still crystal clear.

His blue eyes were still visible to him.

Grimmjow wiped back the fog away from the mirror. Reflected back at him was the image of himself, just coming out of the shower. Drops of water clung to the ends of his own watery blue hair, and rolled down like chilled fingertips against his bare skin. A few bolder drops clung to the eyelashes hovering just above the oceanic expanse of his eyes.

It was the image he had seen the moment his mask was ripped. This man in the mirror was what had been draped underneath the protective white guise of the panther's skin. He had always wondered where the Arrancar had gotten their appearances from. Was this image before him the result of the conglomeration of countless devoured souls? Or had 'he' looked like this before death?

It always gave him a headache thinking about it.

After drying off, he dressed himself in this new human attire he and his comrades were forced to wear. Granted the clothing was bulky and annoying to put on, but it was better than the uniform that had been forced on them as Arrancar.

As he buttoned up his black shirt, his fingers stopped as they grazed against the rough texture of a thick scar on his muscled abdomen. His body was never marred by such disfigurements, so he had been curious as to why this one persisted.

It was a large gash that had been inflicted upon him by that Soul Reaper, Kurosaki. He burned from inside upon remembering their last fight, but he shook his head and finished dressing himself. As much as he resented the brat, he held that scar in high regard. The girl hadn't been able to completely heal it due to their rush to leave the meeting site, but Grimmjow was content with that. The mark was a permanent reminder of how he almost lost Pantera, and himself.

He wouldn't let that happen again.

_Thank you. _The usually silent voice in his head echoed.

_Don't worry. _He answered back. _Nothing will separate us. I promise. _

He abandoned the mirror image his bathroom to revisit the bland, orderly space of his new room. He hadn't really tampered with anything in here, given he didn't have much other than his clothes, his sword, and his wallet, all of which was heaped up on the dresser. The rest of the empty space was relatively untouched, aside from the jagged scars left on the door from Ulquiorra's last visit. Grimmjow scanned the distasteful blankness of his room with a scowl on his face.

So boring.

Not that he had ever cared for interior design (like their overzealous, pink-haired brother), but there was no doubt his siblings' rooms looked exactly the same. He had hated that kind of uniformity ever since his time in Las Noches.

He shrugged uncaringly, and headed out to the kitchen for the usual morning scene; only to find that it had been replaced with a daunting irregularity.

Though he may not appear so, Grimmjow was actually an early-riser. He didn't have any particular inclination to wake up early, (except on weekends such as this, when his patrol started earlier) but once he escaped grasp of sleep, there was no putting him back. He didn't awake as early as Baraggan, who normally spent the majority of the morning in his room, but Grimmjow was always the first to rise before the rest of his Espada comrades.

So, he was naturally taken aback when he encountered their normally somnolent Primera casually reading a book at the clear kitchen table, and sipping a cup of coffee. Across from him was their Segunda king, likewise drinking the caliginous fumes of a cigarette.

Starrk's pale blue eyes lifted up to meet Grimmjow's brighter blue ones.

"Am I still dreaming?" Grimmjow asked with an inquisitive look.

Starrk merely brushed him off with a half-shrug, and took a slow sip of his coffee.

"If you were, it wouldn't be of any of us." Baraggan answered.

"No doubt there." Grimmjow muttered as he grabbed a glass cup from the cupboard. "By the way, what bullshit did the Captains call you for?"

"You know." Baraggan grumbled. "In response to Ulquiorra's 'violence' towards his unit from patrol."

"Yeah, but didn't they already say he wasn't gonna be punished for it? Why the hell did they still call you?"

"Bah." The old Arrancar waved a dismissive hand. "The meeting was a useless congregation of grievances. They complained until my ears bled. If not punishment, they insisted on some form of handicap for the boy."

"Which you have yet to inform us about." Starrk pointed out coolly.

"What kinda baggage are we talkin'?" Grimmjow inquired.

"A variation of one of those collars." Baraggan answered darkly. "To contain his spiritual pressure since its mild release devastated those weak Reapers the other day."

The two younger Espada visibly stiffened at the mention of those animal collars that had been used on them during their lab imprisonment. Their elder merely kept his eyes on the fluid smoke rising from the cigarette.

"He's to wear it for the remainder of the month."

"Will it affect his fighting?" Starrk asked.

"Not seriously." Baraggan said. "He will simply have to refrain from exerting too much power."

"So it all stays the same." Grimmjow muttered bitterly. "Except he got off easy."

"His offense wasn't as severe as yours." Starrk reminded him.

"Don't take that as permission to do as you please." Baraggan cautioned. "You know the consequences for a second offense."

"I get it. I get it, Gramps." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't fall out of your elementary line again. Can't ya see what a good boy I've been for you?"

"Don't get snarky with me, boy." Baraggan warned. "Though, I have noticed that you've been unusually mild as of late."

"And?" Grimmjow arched an awaiting brow.

"It's unnerving." Baraggan grumbled as he exhaled the smoky fumes.

A bitter chuckle escaped the younger Espada.

"Aren't you all always complaining about my shit?" He shot back. "So the moment the beast is tamed, the audience wants to throw a bone to get a reaction?"

"It was a mere observation." Baraggan took the joint away from his lips to bring his gaze up to his feisty younger comrade.. "As an old man, I tend to broaden my horizons to all kinds of behavior."

"Don't start with the 'old age' crap again, Baraggan." Grimmjow muttered as he leaned against a chair. "We're all old, in case you haven't noticed."

"Perhaps." The former hollow king replied. "Though, none of you have seen as much as I have."

"Again with the 'King Who Sees All' speech?" Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Spare me wisdom crack, Gramps. We're not in Hueco Mundo any more."

"Indeed." Baraggan said soundly. "Which is the cause of your sudden change in behavior. Correct?"

The Sexta Espada settled his intense, royal blue glare on an unwavering Baraggan. Instead of the appropriate glare in those ageless, ashen eyes, they were briefly flooded with a glimmer of condolement.

Briefly.

"Believe me, boy. I've been watching you, and have noticed a subtle cautiousness in your actions. By all means be cautious, but...don't let those Reapers change you, boy."

Grimmjow allowed the world around him to fade out of focus for a moment, just to sharpen his attentive eye on the man before him. Had he heard correctly? Of course he did; Baraggan had already clarified that this was indeed not a dream. Still, what was this heartless old hollow doing with that soft light in his proud grey eyes?

The only grey Grimmjow found to hold such a light was just beyond the walls of this new home of theirs, no doubt sleeping away the early morning before awakening to a new day of life.

Real life.

Either way, the words struck a match to light an indignant fire in his chest. Grimmjow hadn't changed for anyone. His willing docility was only to ensure Pantera's presence at his side.

That's what he kept telling himself.

"Heh." Grimmjow breathed out a dry laugh. "If they could change us they wouldn't have let us out of those labs."

"Perhaps in one perspective." Baraggan replied as he tossed the burnt out cigarette into the trash. "Just know that while we have limits to our insurgency, don't fall prey to their psychological trap by feeling inferior, because we most certainly are not. In this struggle, each side can check the other with an advantage. They can easily punish us, just as easily as they can face losing manpower for the Menos attacks. Stay in line with those advantages."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

"Don't tell me that there's a method to this madness." He said almost threateningly.

"Then I advise you to remove yourself from the conflict." The old man answered. "This is a game of strategic tug-of-war. Whichever side pulls hard enough may triumph of their upper hand, or they may recoil at a backlash from the other side. It's a delicate balance."

"One that threatens to collapse with each confrontation between us and the Reapers." Starrk finished.

"Correct." Baraggan agreed. I've been rather lenient with these displays of disobedience for that reason. I want to find the boundary line of those Reapers that will leave them with no choice but to switch to administering that lethal shock through the soul bands. I certainly won't reach the precipice, but knowing the approximate boundary is safer than blindly running until we hit the edge. If we know our limits, we can play our cards accordingly to our benefit, and add more weight to our side."

"Shouldn't you be having this talk with Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow asked, feeling a little frustrated at the topic at hand. "That bastard may have gotten off easy, but he was still the last one to act up, right? Lecture him about this chess game of yours."

"I'd rather call it political gambling." Baraggan broke in.

"Whatever. I already know my boundaries, so spare me an explanation of the war mechanics." Grimmjow muttered. "I have no intention of being involved in your schemes."

"How unlike you to shy away from potential battle." Baraggan noted darkly. "Did losing Pantera affect you so severely?"

The temperature in the kitchen noticeably dropped to fatalistic lows. Even Starrk had a guarded look in his eyes. Baraggan didn't waver under Grimmjow's blazing glower, but let out a tired sigh like a fatigued father.

"Still think they can't change you, boy?"

"If I _have_ changed, isn't it for the better? What's wrong with being a little careful?" Grimmjow asked in a low voice. "Wasn't your last lecture full of crap about my recklessness? What is it that you want from me now, old man?"

Here, their elderly king seemed to have been caught by his own internal discord. His deep eyes were conflicted with what looked like the struggle between ration and passion.

"There is one thing," He began quietly. "That I am absolutely certain of in this conflict. All I want is for us to survive. Though it pains me to admit it, we've been drawn into a corner by these Reapers. They hold their blades just inches from our throats. Indeed, we have our weapons, but not as much free space to retaliate in the midst of a sudden movement. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that we're at their mercy, but if we play the game accordingly, we can assure our survival. That is all that I stand for."

"Then what?"

Baraggan brought his scarred eyes up to Grimmjow.

"How long can we continue to survive in this imprisonment?" Grimmjow asked with little acidity. If anything, he was genuinely curious as to what his leader aspired to achieve. "Yeah we can stay alive, but is that really living?"

"You speak as if we live like these humans." The aged king said bitterly. "But I understand. I haven't thought much of the future."

"None of us have in a long time." Grimmjow mentioned.

"Heh. Right. Death does that to you." Baraggan grimaced. "We simply can't afford to think of anything but our current predicament."

"What about peace?"

Both Arrancar turned their heads to their Primera Espada, who had been intently listening to the conversation with that ever disengaged aura about him.

"Have you considered it as a final alternative?" Starrk asked with imperturbable apathy. "It may seem unlikely, but it also seems like a safety line."

"Tch. With the Reapers?" Grimmjow seethed at the thought. "I'd sooner see Hell freeze over."

"Peace is a euphemism for surrender." Baraggan said sternly. "I refuse to relinquish in the face of those bastards."

"Just a suggestion." Starrk explained as he flipped through the pages of his book.

"So this is what spouts outta your mouth when you're awake." Grimmjow muttered with a dry grin.

"Speaking of which," Baraggan turned his head at the man across from him, who was still surprisingly immersed in whatever text he was reading. "What brings you up yet again at this hour?"

Starrk hadn't even yawned once throughout this whole chat, an odd occurrence that went against his normal enervated nature. The man in question reluctantly lifted his disinterested eyes up to both of his comrades, and gave a half-shrug.

"I've taken an interest in these books the school required me to read for class." He said conclusively. "They're not half bad."

"I still don't get how you ended up with the teaching gig over Ul." Grimmjow muttered.

"There's no trait that spells 'scholarly', about you." Baraggan added. "Aside from your apparent new taste for books."

"Ul only agreed to the teacher aid position because of the supposed age gap between us." Starrk explained. "Basically, he looks younger, so he plays the intern role better. Plus, the workload for his is twice mine." He concluded with an almost sympathetic rumble in his voice. "But I'm afraid that's what's been making him so irritable lately. You know, with the lack of sleep."

"He has seemed more tired lately..." Baraggan said quietly.

Grimmjow had taken notice of that as well, but excess work wasn't something that could easily daunt his highly capable brother. There was another reason for his troubled state. No doubt all of their thoughts trailed over to the main suspect for their dark-haired comrade's odd behavior.

A pretty, diamond-eyed, coppery-haired suspect just next door.

* * *

Orihime traced her eyes over the nebulous sheet of clouds that blanketed the cerulean space of the sky. Few cracks of sunlight streamed out like waterfalls from the protective cloud cover, but shadows were still cast on the city. She wondered if it would rain today.

"May I help you, dear?"

Orihime turned her head to meet the bright smile of the elderly bookstore employee.

"Oh no, I'm fine ma'am." She ensured with a smile. "Thank you."

"Would you would be interested in our young adult section?"

"O-oh...well..." She faltered, feeling radiant red dye her cheeks.

"It's over in the back left if you'd like to browse it, dear." The woman smiled before leaving to help a group of young kids.

Orihime mirrored her smile, but was at a loss for words. Among the hundreds, maybe thousands, of choices in her favorite bookstore, the last category she would want to choose from today would from the 'young adult' side of the store.

The label was synonymous with romance.

Orihime shook her head to make the unwanted thoughts tumble out of her mind. That particular subject was one she did not need to think any more about than she already had these past few days.

And she couldn't deny that she had thought about it. Every time her thoughts traveled back to a certain dark-haired hollow, she felt like she was underwater: submerged in emotion, thoughts, sensations, and confusion; completely grasped within the water's omnipresent embrace; unable to escape the pressure around her...

...and perfectly at peace with it.

She had hoped that she could clear her mind of the relentless thoughts over the weekend, but everywhere she went, it felt like she was in a room of mirrors, where his reflection was everywhere to be seen and admired.

Why had she reached out to him like that? What sudden courage made her so thoughtless as to touch him even though he had pointed out that she didn't have permission? On that note, he said it didn't bother him, and that last moment between them certainly proved that...

So what was this sudden intimacy between them that neither of them were shying away from? She was close to all of her friends, and she had received tighter and more enthusiastic embraces from Nel.

But Nel didn't make her heart race like that...and she didn't make Nel's heart do the same...

Orihime blew out a quick breath from her mouth, hoping to let some heat drain out of her face. Why was she so insistent on driving herself insane? She was here to get her mind off of things, not...

"Orihime?"

Yet again, the redheaded girl was caught in the midst of her ruminations, but this time it was by her dainty shopping partner. Rukia's large, lilac eyes flashed with slight worry as she fanned her friend's heated face.

"Is everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, Rukia!" Orihime laughed nervously. "I'm fine! Totally fine."

"I don't know." The petite Soul Reaper eyed her friend in suspicion. "You see more distracted than usual."

Did she? That must have been saying something. Orihime shrugged sheepishly at her friend's worried eyes.

"Oh, I'm just wondering what kind of books to pick out today." Orihime insisted as she ran her eyes over the mystery section. "I've already bought the sequel to the series I've been reading, but while I'm here, I might as well pick out another one, right?"

"That's what I was thinking." Rukia agreed with a more relaxed smile. "Though, I'm looking to see if they have the latest volume to a shojo manga I've been reading. Ichigo wouldn't look online for me, so I took the initiative and decided to see for myself."

"Well that's good." Orihime smiled. "I would look it up on my phone, but I really am hopeless when it comes to technology..."

"Ah, don't worry..." Rukia awkwardly nodded her head as she fixed the bun that swept up her silky, ebony locks. "So am I."

As she and Rukia discussed their technological plight in this twenty-first century, Orihime's eyes were caught by a single book cover hanging out of it's place on the shelf, almost flirtatiously. The picture on the front wasn't particularly intriguing, but it's focus was of an eye of a pretty heroine. The dark elements around it had the eerie sense of gothic horror, but the girl's calm and suspiciously green eye was enough to remind her of...

"It makes me think of the fourth Espada."

Orihime turned her head at the sound of Rukia's gentle voice. Likewise, the small girl had an adorably soft look in her light lavender eyes as she smiled up at Orihime.

"Ulquiorra, right?"

Orihime nodded, feeling a smiliar smile upturn her lips.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

"Orihime?"

"Hmm?"

"That day when you didn't come back from the classroom at lunch..."

_Uh-oh. _

"Was he in the classroom?"

Orihime looked down at that sincere gaze of Rukia's, and couldn't find it in her to make up some little excuse like she may have for some little occurence.

"Mm...yeah, he was." She confirmed with an uneasy smile. "I mean, he was asleep at first, but he woke up as I was about to leave, and...we started talking. I'm sorry I kind of bailed on you guys..."

"Not at all." Rukia assured. "Though it did take some persuasion to stop Tatsuki from marching up there herself."

Orihime couldn't help but giggle at her friend's overprotective nature.

"Tatsuki's always been like that, but it's okay, since nothing happened."

"Nothing?"

Orihime ran her finger along the paperback spine of the book with the green-eyed girl, feeling herself become immersed within the lovely shade.

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing..." She trailed off, remembering her moment with the fourth Espada. "Rukia?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's only natural for the Soul Reapers to feel...hesitant around the Espada, but...not all of them are really threatening. They're just as worried over this situation as you all."

Rukia let her shining eyes fall downcast at her sweet friend's analysis of the situation.

"I can see that. I'm hoping for peace between us, but I'm not sure if we're going about it the right way."

"I think that we can achieve it."

Rukia lifted her gaze to meet the smiling silver one of her kind friend.

"I know that they were our former enemies, but I've seen different sides to them. They don't want another war, like us. Plus, they've become pretty relaxed. The noise near my apartment has gotten less rowdy, and they even seem to be getting along a little better with each other. When I talk with Ulquiorra, he does seem kind of bitter, but overall he's gotten so much more mellow. It's really nice..."

It really was nice. Seeing more to him was something that always made her feel happy. Aside from the cold, aloof, and blunt Arrancar she had come to know, there was so much more to Ulquiorra than she, or even he knew. Orihime wanted to discover more of the hollows next door, but with Ulquiorra, that sentiment was strongest.

There was a reason for that, she knew. Orihime didn't know exactly what it was yet, but...she had a theory...

She had the vague feeling that she was slowly drifting back into the consuming currents of the water from before, but she was too far submerged to do much about it. She didn't really mind drowning in these kinds of thoughts.

Rukia could see the blush that tinged Orihime's cheeks as she smiled at the mention of her former captor. It would have seemed like an odd reaction, perhaps a few months ago, but Rukia found herself smiling as well.

"Then I look forward to more good news from them."

Orihime blinked down at her friend, and nodded with an enthusiastic smile.

"So do I. Ooh! I also found out that Nel likes drawing, too!" Orihime continued excitedly. "Her cartoon sheep are kind of like your Chappy Rabbits."

"Really?" Rukia asked with a smile. "Cute. I'd like to see them some time."

Behind her smile was a strong, almost desperate hope.

_They may not want war, but I hope they want peace. And I hope you're right, Orihime. _

The two friends chattered away in the isles of suspense novels, too absorbed in conversation to notice the two newest shoppers that entered through the store doors.

* * *

Another boring blank wall of colorless bricks. Grimmjow traced his eyes over the dark alley walls, finding nothing particularly appealing about the area. Surrounding him were piles of unconscious bodies of another group of gang members who had tried to jump him. At the very least, the youth in this town was lively, albeit completely made up of bitches.

Speaking of youth, his orange-headed partner was probably ripping out spikes of that annoyingly bright hair of his in trying to find him. Truthfully, he was only being a pain to mess with the Soul Reaper, but he was pretty bored with being so obedient to the rules placed on him. He needed something to entertain himself, and pissing off his former enemy was too good to pass up.

As he thought about his boredom, Baraggan's words echoed in his head like a fading voice in a tunnel.

_"...don't let those Reapers change you, boy."_

"Tch..." He felt a scowl screw itself onto his face.

_How have I changed, old man? I'm still giving 'em shit to deal with. Just in moderation. You can agree with that..._

_...right?_

That whole conversation had pissed him off, but nothing he said in his defense was really effective in changing the Espada King's mind. If Grimmjow did seem submissive, it wasn't because he was frightened.

He just didn't want to make another mistake he would regret.

Shaking off the annoying thoughts, he shifted his eyes to the unattractive scene before him. He didn't even know why the hell he was checking out the area here. Perhaps it was because of the few corners on the brick surface that had been spray painted with various designs. Most of the paint spelled out profanities or obscene pictures, which were definitely eye-catching, but not very thought-provoking.

He balked and blinked a few times.

"Huh."

Looks he finally found a word to describe his interest in certain visual designs he had encountered in this human world. They simply made him...think.

It had intrigued him that such simple orientations of lines, shapes, and figures could so easily capture his attention when nothing else really could. Generally he was easily bored by his surroundings unless they had some peculiar feature that was meant to draw attention to it. If something caught his eye, it was hard for him to discard his finding; such was his nature as a predator, but what about this art? There was no way for him to hunt it, prey on it, dominate it, or benefit from it in any way, aside from a brief captivation of his focus; so why did it have such an affect on him?

The more he thought about it, the more his mind wandered back to his image before him in the mirror. Grimmjow wasn't one to only focus on the physical aspect of things, but image had always been something significant to him. He always saw himself reflected in his prey, and he basked in that vision of fear that flashed in their eyes. Likewise, he could remember the way they looked before his lethal attacks. It appeared as though images really did reflect the essence of the inner being.

What did his appearance say about him? Well, that was obvious.

Dominant.

Powerful.

Unapproachable.

Intimidating.

Striking.

But what had combined to create the image of such a man?

There was that upcoming headache again.

While Grimmjow held the side of his throbbing head, his eyes trailed over the listless gangsters surrounding him. How odd was it that the blood that streaked the ground from their assault was more aesthetically appealing than the paint clumsily spread on the walls before him. The scene brought him back to a similar time when he had been caught in the same situation, except with a group of adolescents, a metal baseball bat, and a shaken human girl carrying groceries like him.

Turns out, she had an interest in art too. Not that he would ever admit his interest to anyone. She was the only one who knew.

"Grimmjow! Dammit, where are you?!"

A smirk tugged on his lips at the exasperation in his teen partner's voice, as he tirelessly searched for him to participate in their patrol together. Grimmjow turned carelessly on his heel to continue the chasing game, a game he played often when he had stalked his prey. Playing the prey was fun of you could annoy you're stupid predator.

"Follow the trail of blood, Sunspot."

* * *

It never would have occured to her that being surrounded by so many other moving bodies would be so suffocating. She was used to traveling the expansive plains of Hueco Mundo where there was nothing to bump into, since any poor creature would die from contact or simple close proximity. Las Noches was grandiloquent, but by no means as vast as an entire world. Lilynette never realized how content she had been with such an small group of people. There were numerous Arrancar in the Hollow Palace, and she was grateful of their presence that purged her and Starrk of their prolonged loneliness, but she was not fond of large gatherings with little intimacy.

Inevitably, the human world was way too crowded with an awkwardly jumbled populace, much to her displeasure.

As she sat with Wonderweiss on a bench just outside a humble-sized bookstore, Lilynette scanned the bustling streets as people came and went, talked, smoked, ate, drank, flirted, shopped, and acted out all other trivial human past times.

_What a bunch of annoying flies._

It irritated her as to how ignorant humans were of everything around them. Rather, they were just too self-absorbed to pay attention to their surroundings. Her looks often fooled others, but for a younger-looking hollow, Lilynette had a keen eye that was just as honed as the rest of her higher level comrades. She could pick up on the most obscure aspects of a scene, but there really was nothing exciting here, even in this busy plaza.

"Wrraaah..."

Lilynette turned her rosy eyes to meet the violet ones of her brother Wonderweiss, who was tugging on the thin strap of her baby blue dress.

"Quit that, Weiss." She grumbled with a blush on her cheeks as she fixed the strap.

"Hnnyyahh..." He protested, laying his blond head against her shoulder.

"I know, they're takin' a long time." She said, awkwardly shrugging him off of her. "Just wait, okay?"

Ever present on his freckled face was that blank stare.

"I'll take that as a yes." Lilynette rolled her eyes and went back to watching the streets.

What was taking Ulquiorra and Tia so damn long? All she had asked was that they pick up a new manga volume for her and some random book on behalf of Starrk (her spiritual half had taken a liking to some human literature as a result of the books he had to read for the school curriculum). Could they be searching for something themselves? Her taciturn brother and sister both seemed like the erudite type, so it wouldn't surprise her if they were.

Figures. Even after trying to introduce her older siblings to some of the popular culture of their age group (eh, sort of), they settled for dull stuff to occupy their time.

No surprise there. Adults were so boring. Especially human ones. She couldn't say the same for the little ones, though. Human children, while obnoxiously loud, were an amusing bunch. Their innocence was something that always intrigued her. It made her conscious of her own size. Of course she looked, and regrettably acted, like a child, but she had seen and experienced things far from innocent.

Being a part of the most powerful hollow to exist in Hueco Mundo wasn't a fun existence. Starrk was her most precious person, but the times they spent together weren't the happiest.

Well, no duh. They were hollows. Hollows were condemned to a fate without happiness. Those grisly smiles that she saw on her more fiery older brothers were also hollow. Even when she teased or messed around with Starrk, Lilynette never really felt _happy. _

Just...okay.

So watching happy children stroll by, holding their mothers' hands, smiling so easily, talking of whatever incessant drivel of innocence, gave her a weird feeling. A feeling of losing something important; something that could never be reclaimed. It wasn't a totally unfamiliar experience; perhaps she had felt it once during her aimless wandering with Starrk in the Hollow World. Maybe even before that.

"Nahh?" Wonderweiss tilted his head in curiosity at the foreign glimmer that glazed the surface of his friend's pretty pink eyes. He settled his chin on her shoulder to get a closer look, but she didn't stop him this time. Instead her thin fingers brushed up against his cheek until her hand rested against the soft waves of his blond hair.

"Lily?" He drawled childishly.

"It's nothing Weiss."

* * *

"Dude, check it out..."

Several males (even a few females), adolescent and adult alike, seemed to be entranced by the flexous movement of nimble fingertips slowly stroking the hard cover of a fantasy novel. Naturally their eyes followed to the striking figure to whom the olive-skinned hand belonged to.

"Is she a foreigner? So exotic..."

"What a babe!"

"Is he her boyfriend? That guy is so freakin' lucky!"

"Whoa, look at those eyes."

"Forget the eyes man! Check out that body!"

"How the hell is he staying off of that?"

Halibel tucked a soft tuft golden hair behind her ear as she selected a novel from the mystery section. As she reached up, a slit of smooth skin was exposed from the low-cut hem of her silk blouse, making several eyes glaze over. Ulquiorra didn't move from the wall he was leaning on, but he shifted a menacing glare in the direction of his sister's unwanted audience. The libidinous spectators immediately scrambled away like frightened rodents.

Halibel turned her identical green gaze to her brother as if nothing had happened.

"Is this the same one that Starrk requested?"

She watched as Ulquiorra slipped his black cell phone out of his jacket to check the message their Primera had sent them just a few minutes ago. Starrk seemed serious in making sure they selected the correct novel he had been waiting to read. Naturally, their lazy, presumed leader couldn't be bothered to do his own errands, so he had asked Halibel and Ulquiorra to buy the book since the shop was in their patrol perimeter. Still, the fact that he was motivated towards some goal was a step forward against his lethargic nature.

"The cover matches." Ulquiorra answered as he compared the picture to the book hanging suspended from Halibel's hands. "It's the one. Have you finished you're own shopping?"

Halibel gave a curt nod as she cradled three books in her arms: one of the Japanese cartoon variety that Lilynette enjoyed reading; the particular choice as per request of Starrk; and an indistinctive selection from the mystery section, that she had picked at random for herself. Halibel had never been exposed to any form of human literature (though a few Arrancar, like Neliel and Szayel, had requested Aizen for a library to hold books of knowledge for research and philosophical purposes), but if a few stories had managed to capture ever disinterested Starrk's attention, then maybe she would give human authors a chance.

After all, she would need something to alleviate the boredom of this human world; regular visits to the oceanside weren't a likely possibility due to their busy schedule.

As she and Ulquiorra made their way to the counter to make their purchase, a gust of wind from the opening door gently pushed the ruffled hem of her skirt just inches up her thighs, enticing several onlookers to gawk at her legs.

"You're not making it any better." Ulquiorra muttered as she smoothed out the folds in her billowing skirt. It was true; as she slightly bent her head to look down, sunlight swam through the golden threads of her hair and thick blond eyelashes. Yet again, Ulquiorra sent his terrifying aura towards any lingering eyes that were ogling his lovely sister.

"It's best to just ignore it." Halibel said simply as she placed the stack of books on the counter for the clerk to ring up.

"Or to buy more modest clothing." Ulquiorra gave her a sideways glance.

"Something impossible to achieve when shopping with Nel." She returned with a knowing look in her marine eyes.

"Fine." Ulquiorra submitted. "I can understand that struggle."

As Halibel thumbed through thin pages of the small book, a fleeting title page caught her eye. Withdrawn, not too outwardly flashy, and indeterminate in a way that was mysteriously magnetic.

Just her type.

"Hold our place in line while I check something." She said softly to her brother, while she excused herself to browse the nearby section. Ulquiorra didn't offer any protest, but she could see the barely perceptible roll of his eyes. It amused her as to how her comrade, who alongside her was known as one of the most aloof Espada, was ever so slightly becoming more and more impatient with the littlest stressors. It showed miniscule peeks at sides to him that she was interested in seeing for herself.

Just as she pulled the paperback out of it's place on the shelf, a familiarly dainty hand reached out for a book just underneath her choice.

Lavender met with Viridian.

"What a small town." Halibel said as she gazed down at the petite female Reaper.

"Likewise." Came her steady voice. "We meet again, Halibel."

"I don't suppose you've been watching me as well, Little Reaper?" The statuesque woman mused.

Remembrance gleamed in those violet eyes like the flashes of lightning from that stormy day on the rooftop.

"No, you have nothing to worry of about that." She answered. "And my name is Rukia Kuchiki."

"I'm aware of your title. Believe me, I've met with plenty of your clansmen." Halibel assured. "Though, you aren't a part of the original bloodline."

The look in her eyes was fierce for such a little one.

"No, I am not. But I support my clan through thick and thin."

How admirable.

"Might I ask, what brings you here?" The petite Soul Reaper eyed her with slight suspicion in her light eyes.

Undaunted, Halibel lifted the slim paperback to show her selection.

"The same reason as you, I assume." She replied smoothly. "At times like this when the Garganta is sealed, the patrol becomes quite dull. Is it a criminalizing offense to relieve my boredom?"

Discomfort washed over her delicate features, but the little Reaper shook her head astutely.

"I didn't imply anything like that." She said defensively. "I was simply wondering...is all..."

Halibel watched the little Reaper girl with an even gaze, but she refused to waver.

_What an ardent girl. _

_"How wide do you think the gap is between what we Reapers know, and what you and your comrades know of this affair between our parties?" _

"Have you found your answers yet, Miss Kuchiki?" She asked. It wasn't like her to submerge herself in such lengthy conversation, but little could abate Halibel's curiosity.

The little Reaper tightened her small hand around the strap of her purse, and looked up at the Espada with a piercing light in those soft eyes.

"I am simply Rukia." She echoed Halibel's dead tone from their last confrontation. "And no, I haven't. I've decided to give more focus to the matters at hand, though I am still doing my own research within our ranks."

_Don't expect to have an easy search. _

"May I ask one thing?" She continued a little less adamantly.

"I've already told you that I can't give you any information." Halibel reminded her.

"I'm aware of that." The Reaper girl closed her eyes briefly before looking back up to the statuesque woman before her. "I only have one personal question, if I may ask."

Halibel glowered down at her small form before slowly nodding her head in permission to petite girl looked up at her former enemy with an earnest light in her large eyes.

"Is it safe to assume that the Espada want peace?"

Despite the quiet atmosphere of the bookstore, her words were breathed out so quietly that they may as well have evaporated as mist into the air. Little could get past Halibel's perception; she heard her clearly, and she only had one answer.

"I could ask the same for the Soul Society."

Their eyes were locked in a strong battle for what seemed like a lifetime.

After some contemplation, the Kuchiki reluctantly acceded. With nothing left to say, the two otherworldly women were about to exit the isle back to the line register when an odd juxtaposition caught both of their gazes.

Bright copper just next to dark onyx.

"Your partner for the day?" Rukia asked with only a slightly guarded tone.

Halibel nodded as she kept her eyes on her brother, who appeared to be conversing with their human neighbor. With whatever creative ability she had, her mind inexplicably imagined the scenario that could have led to this situation: the cluelessly innocent girl searching for her shopping friend, spots the darkly unapproachable man, whom she has had a brief but complex history with, by chance in a bookstore; feeling like a butterfly trapped in a spider's web, she tentatively edges forward, feeling an odd mix of wanting to speak to him and hoping that he doesn't notice her; being the unpredictable man he is, he acknowledges her, sending her into a momentary flustered panic; but, as soon as the ice is broken, they engage in conversation; so few words are spoken during their moments, but their eyes never leave each other; in each gaze, memories from previous moments flood their eyes, while they form new memories at the very moment; even his icy persona melts to allow her better recognition of the man so enraptured by her; something he would only do for her.

Halibel wouldn't mind reading that kind of story.

In the midst of her vision, Halibel discreetly slid her gaze over to the tiny Reaper beside her. The same watchful glimmer was present in her eyes as well, but she observed the scene with a soft smile sketched on her small lips.

"Wasn't that guy just with another blonde knockout? Look at that new hottie!

Halibel shifted her attention away from the indiscreet whispers back to the couple at the counter. What a peculiar pair indeed: a kind human girl, lovely in such an endearing way, and a man whose lifeless, frigid demeanor was so easily warmed by her presence.

'Man, is he gettin' lucky!"

Perhaps Ulquiorra was getting lucky.

* * *

There he was again, trapped within this new feeling. It was an odd sensation; as if he was being overtaken by some greater force. Every time he was with her, the atmosphere around him would change. At the start of the day, he had felt as he usually would to his surrounding world: uncaring and disinterested.

That changed every time he was caught by those silver eyes. Ever since their last encounter, Ulquiorra was certain that he needed at least some time to get away from her trance, from the way she perplexed him and put him on the spot in such conflicting confrontations, from the way her smile always sedated every part of his apathetic demeanor.

And yet, he yearned to experience more of that inner turmoil each time she evoked it. As he recalled their time in Hueco Mundo, he could remember the first time he felt the pulse in his chest. He had always been cognizant of its steady beat, but it was that time just before death that he actually understood the meaning behind that single feeling. She had helped him understand that.

She was his confusion as much as she was his clarity.

There was no way he could deny it, escape it, or rationalize it.

Standing here with her now, just talking of whatever casual things of the day, learning more about her and about himself, looking at her smiling face, was enough to fill him to the brim with that sensation that only she was capable of giving him. Was there any way that she could feel the same way? Those few moments between them that always felt like the pinnacle of something important always connected them, like that power of the rain she believed in. Whenever they touched like that, he could feel her heart beat against his.

What did it mean that their hearts matched to their own beat?

Why did that feeling subside the moment Halibel returned with the Kuchiki girl?

* * *

_"I'm surprised to see you here."_

_"It's just like any other time we meet."_

_"Well, yeah, but I just hadn't expected to meet you in one of my favorite places. That's actually pretty coincidental." _

_"Halibel and I are still on our patrol, just doing a favor for Starrk and Lilynette."_

_"Oh? They like reading?"_

_"Certain genres."_

_"Oh, I see. W-what about you? Are you i-interested in any kind of...genre?"_

_"I've never really read any kind of novel."_

_"Really? I would have taken you for the bookworm type..."_

_"Only for nonfiction categories. __I'll admit, I was rather taken aback by the number of books you had on that shelf of yours."_

_"Mm-hm. There are so many great stories to read, I just can't help but reading from a variety."_

_"What about those science catalogs?"_

_"Those are interesting, too!"_

_"...you're full of surprises."_

_"Um, th-thank you. I'm looking more into horror stories now, though. Gotta get prepped for Halloween!" _

_"I would have taken you for a typical romance enthusiast."_

_"R-r-really? Oh, no it's n-not really my thing. Those kinds of books are nice, but a little embarrassing to read..."_

_"How so?"_

_"W-well, it's all so...intimate..."_

_"I don't recall you having a problem with reaching out to others in an intimate way."_

_"Wh-what do you mean...?"_

_"Do I need to bring it up?"_

_"You, already did..."_

_"Then you know."_

The memory ran through the back of Ulquiorra's mind, unbeknownst to him while he slept soundly, a rarity as of late. As expected, his headphones were in his ears to lull him to sleep, in an effort to distract him from these exact pestering thoughts.

Murciélago hummed to the soothing melody while tracing over the thoughts for yet another time. Even thought the girl had clearly noticed the new necklace around Ulquiorra's neck, she had purposefully chosen not to discuss it once she saw the Soul Society's emblem engraved on it.

_"O-okay. But, I'm not saying I have a problem with it. D-do you?"_

_"Not as of yet."_

_"This feels familiar..." _

_"I agree. You remember what happens next?" _

_"...is that an invitation?"_

_"...who knows?" _

An amused smile found its way to the pale lips of the dark being humming along to the beat of the music and of Ulquiorra's heart.

_Such an interesting girl._

* * *

**A/N: Ugghhh...such a weird chapter. I PROMISE THE NEXT ONE SHALL BE BETTER.**

**Can you spell 'fangirl'? That's right, Halibel and Nel are our two main Ulquihime shippers in this fic (maybe Rukia). Hopefully you enjoyed the different perspectives in this chapter, and I apologize if it's an awkward flow.**

**For any of you who are weary of Baraggan, bear with my characterization. Our old man isn't as severe as we think he is...**

**Hopefully Murciélago's image appeals to you; I've always pictured a kind of demonic look, considering Ulquiorra's ressurección. I also want to make note that Murciélago has no assigned gender yet. You may have noticed that I did not specifically state whether Murci was male or female. I'm fine with either one, but let me know what you all prefer! Both images in my mind are attractive.**

**Please review! Thank you for reading! **


	11. Chapter 11: Connection

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 11: Luminescence

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the late update. My schedule has been thrown way off by work and personal affairs, but who cares about my petty problems? **

**I'll admit, I was a little disheartened by last chapter's reception, but I strive to improve my writing. Hopefully this one is better. It's the longest one yet! Enjoy and thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga.**

* * *

11:53 a.m.

That was what was reflected back to him from the puny glass screen of this human innovation called a cell phone. The tiny thing was so easily enveloped in the colossal expanse of his hand that he could only imagine what kind of dilemma it would be for Yammy and his gargantuan size. The thought of his ireful brother's hapless struggle brought a smirk to his thin lips, just before his long fingers brought the burning cigarette to them.

Nnoitra held in the smoke before parting his lips to let the fumes ooze out like ash-colored vapor into the air. The stinging stench of smoke invaded the virginal, clean air like an malignant miasma, so pungent that its thick grasp could suffocate someone upon that lethal inhalation.

Yeah, it was dark, but the thought made his wide grin spread even wider.

As he leaned back against the hard brick wall corner of a shopping plaza, a breeze blew by, making a few pesky bangs tangle in the corners of his eyes. He cursed as he attempted to put the untamed locks back in their place. The one thing he hated about short hair was the way it got so damn messy all the time, especially on windy days like this. Granted, long hair sometimes got in the way of fighting, but it wasn't nearly as bothersome.

While fixing the disarray of onyx strands, a faint memory from long ago escaped the dark vaults of his mind.

_"Would you permit me to cut your hair if it is troubling you, Master Nnoitra?" Tesla asked innocently. _

_Nnoitra tilted his head lazily in the direction of his persistent fracciónes, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. _

_"Shut the hell up, Tesla." He mumbled, still sulking over Aizen's ungodly penance of house arrest in his chamber, all for eradicating a horde of worthless hollows. _

_"It's just that it seems to be bothering you..." He continued meekly. _

_"I said leave it." Nnoitra said louder, and with more spite than he had intended. All the while, he had been toying with a few stray dark locks that had grown out past his collarbone. It had gotten longer than he'd intended, but he had been too distracted to level it himself. The extra weight was starting to irk him in battle and his daily routine. _

_Maybe he should let Tesla cut it? _

_"Your hair is getting far too long." Neliel chastised him not long after. "It'll get in your way once you're on the battlefield. Take it from a long-haired girl like me."_

_"Fuck you, bitch."_

It was then that he decided he'd delay cutting it just to show her that something as silly as hair couldn't obstruct his superior fighting ability.

Those were the days.

"Uggghh." Nnoitra grimaced before inhaling the dark fumes of his joint deeply.

It was pitiable how sentimental he sounded, like some old person looking back at the past. To be fair, hollows had nothing but past experiences to reflect on. As a ghost, the concept of a future was null, since there was no life to move forward for. His narrow eyes carried their gaze over the humans moving along so easily to their fragile understanding of the time in this world; they all kept moving in a linear direction, guided by the allotment of time that accompanied life. It was a complicated understanding, but the survival of hollows in Hueco Mundo wasn't really living, just an existence. That cruel truth was something that they never forgot. It was what enticed them to satiate themselves to whatever extent they could, despite the futility of their actions. That mindless indulgence was all that distracted them from the dismal reality of death.

That thought tended to pester him after each of his battles. Nnoitra could spend hours, maybe even days out on a battlefield just so that the feeling of emptiness was temporarily vanquished. Combat really was his only escape from that void that encompassed every being in Hueco Mundo. It was the same for every hollow, he knew, but he was just a little more dependent than others on that irresistible high.

_"It sounds like you're addicted."_

The memory of former Neliel's lecture brought an impulsive scowl to his face, especially considering that she had been right all along. He hated it when she was right, something which was, regrettably, a common occurence.

_Well...not anymore, anyway. _

Nnoitra shook his head to banish those few odd thoughts that bothered him over _that_ particular subject. He blew out a few more dark wisps of smoke, watching as ash crumbled and fell to the cold ground at his feet. He was out of stock, so he'd snatch a few more from the old man's room later. He fell back against the solid edge of the wall, and stretched out his arms, until his eye caught the faint light of illuminated numbers that spelled out the time.

11:57 a.m.

Just a few more minutes before their break ended. His other siblings may groan at the workload they had, but their hours long opportunities to fight were all he really had to look forward to. So long as he could fight, he felt content.

So long as he could thrive on that intoxicating ecstasy of battle, he was satiated.

A dainty cough sounded at his side. He didn't have to look over to recognize the infuriatingly girly voice, but it took him quite a bit of restraint not to instinctively scowl.

"What do ya want?"

"Heeeeyy..." Neliel pouted up at him. Nnoitra seethed at the unsightly expression on the former warrior's face.

"Is that any way to greet your comrade?" She admonished, with her brow furrowing in a manner similar to a child upset with an insufficient amount of attention.

"Gimme a break." He muttered as he blew out more smoke fumes. She coughed again and waved the murky air away with a wince on her face.

"Jeez, could you make a bigger fog cloud?" She whined. "I think there's a flock of birds that dropped dead after flying by."

"Oh, grow up." Nnoitra glared at her as he crushed the cigarette underneath his sneaker. "It's just a little smoke. We've taken worse from Hueco Mundo's sand storms."

"Ugh. Figures, you sound just like Gramps." The childish girl rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I just came to say the break's almost over, and the Reapers want us at the town square in five."

"Bout damn time." He said, stretching his arms above his head again. "They didn't come get me themselves?"

"No." She answered with an easy shrug. "Szayel sent me."

_Figures. _Nnoitra thought, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever." He muttered, and proceeded to walk ahead.

Within a few brisk strides, Nnoitra was already a few feet in front of Neliel, who was half-jogging behind to keep up.

"Wait up!"

"Can't ya walk faster?" He threw a glare back to her small, zippy little form.

"I can't help it!" She protested. "You're legs are too long!"

With an deeply displeased groan, Nnoitra ignored her and her irksome clamoring, and breezed ahead further. It'd be better for him to arrive without that annoying woman tailing him like some lost puppy; no doubt Szayel would give him complete shit for it.

_"You two never change." Szayel drawled, smirking mischievously at the two former Espada arguing over who got to take possession of the television remote. _

That four-eyed bastard. While the other Espada had agreed on spot, Nnoitra was in complete disagreement with the claim. Yeah, he and Neliel still argued on a daily basis, but not the way they used to. Before, their confrontations were ignited like flames over their differences in fighting, behaving, and rationalizing their new existence as Arrancar; they held meaning.

That was before he got rid of her from Las Noches; before the name Neliel Tu Oderschvank disappeared like dust in the winds of Hueco Mundo. That woman and her arguments were gone now.

All that was left was this teary-eyed little girl to bicker with. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

As he walked along the crowded sidewalk, he whipped out his cell phone to silence the flurry of messages from Neliel, accosting him to wait for her. All the while on his way to patrol, he scoped out a few of the women on the streets. They weren't quite as striking as Arrancar females, but they were exotic in their own way, smiling and sauntering so easily around him. Not bad. He spotted a few hotties every now and then, but none so fascinating as the Espadas' cute little neighbor.

Thinking of the pretty little redhead next door brought an elastic grin to his face. It always amused him whenever her scared eyes widened in his presence. He took satisfaction in being the particular Espada to frighten her senseless. Her only safety net among the Espada was, again, dogging Neliel, who was always hostile towards Nnoitra when it came to the girl.

Actually...his certain dark-haired comrade was also quite protective of his old pet; he was always so guarded around her. The smirk on his face widened into a broad grin. Nnoitra didn't know exactly what was up between Ulquiorra and the human girl, or what exactly had happened during their alone time in Las Noches, but it surely seemed to have left something permanent on his cold-blooded brother.

_Heh. So you're a man after all, Ul..._

Feeling bored, he tossed the sleek device up in the air repeatedly, watching the light streak across smooth scarlet surface, creating a red glow in its path. Watching the orientation of sunlight was something that always captured his attention. Back in Hueco Mundo, the artificial light in Las Noches wasn't created by a sun; they had no such light in the Hollow World. The idea of a rotational light source around this planet gave an essence of time. Likewise to their defunct concept of a chronology to their existence, something like knowing the time was a new privilege they had in this human world. Humans may not know it, but that big ball of light hovering above them was what gave them all the essence of time that existed only in life. It may seem like a quirky observation, but it was true.

Death was a timeless void. Nothing embodied the idea of eternity more so than the absolute end of it all, and nothing was more absolute than death. Even if Hollows were able to rest, their sleep cycles didn't constitute days or nights in the Hueco Mundo. The canopy of Las Noches, created by Aizen, was resembled what they knew as 'daytime', but they could not be fooled by such mimicry.

Granted, nothing was more burdensome than having time constrict its limits around you, but it gave a sense of motion and actuality in the world of the living. That was one of the things he found that he was content with in this bland human world. Having some form of a daily routine in tune with the rotating schedules of the sun and the moon gave him a track to run on, instead of aimlessly floating in the boring expanse of eternity. Nnoitra hadn't felt that in a long time, so he soaked up as much of that feeling as possible, just as he did with the comforting warmth of the sun.

Such was also a side benefit of fighting so often. Aside from feeling the brief rush of vivacity in his veins, it kept pushing him along, giving him reason to seek out more prey, and transcend to the position of the strongest. It gave him a sense of purpose, strength, and wholeness...

...and it passed time.

Few people could understand how much that meant to him.

"Hold it!"

Just as he was about to cross the street to the next block, a strong pair of nimble arms locked around his torso.

"Hey-!" He cried out indignantly, but his protest was interrupted by the abrupt wave of air from the rush of a bicycle, more specifically, a cyclist that speedily blazed down the bike lane. Nnoitra stood among a crowd of people bitching about damn idiots being inconsiderate and not watching where they were going. His thoughts followed a similar trail, until warm breath from a relieved sigh brushed against his back.

"That was too close." Neliel breathed against him, making the muscles in his back stiffen uncomfortably

"Okay, I get it." He said irately, unsuccessfully trying to unlatch her arms from around him. Unsuccessful because the bitch had a grip like a fucking anaconda on its prey. "Lemme go!"

"Are you kidding?" She cried with enough reproach to elicit an annoying squeak from her girlish voice. "No way in hell I'm letting you get away again!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He barked down at her, feeling aggravated by the looks people were sending them. "How am I supposed to friggin' walk with you clinging to me like some parasite?"

"Rude!" She shrieked, looking incensed with angry, wide eyes. "Look, I'll let go so long as you promise not to leave me behind."

Nnoitra groaned, but that only made her tighten her hold on him. Why was she so damn strong for such a tiny woman? It pissed him off to no end.

"Promise me." Neliel goaded in that intolerably childish voice.

"Fine!" Nnoitra growled down at her, totally frustrated at her persistence. "I fucking promise, now get the fuck off me."

"Language." She rolled her eyes, but did unhook and slip her arms out from around him.

"Whatever." Nnoitra muttered. He began walking again, but was yanked back by another strong force.

"What?" He glared back at her, and her small, tanned hand wrapped around his large, pale wrist. The look in her owl eyes was disturbingly meek and babyish.

"Pinky swear?"

Nnoitra rolled his eyes, and stalked off again, but he reluctantly kept his pace slow for her so that she didn't fall behind. All the way, she incessantly chattered about frivolous things and wacky observations she made.

Nnoitra vaguely wondered if this was how Neliel felt whenever he would tirelessly tailed her in Las Noches. Maybe this was her fucked up way of getting payback.

Wherever the hell she was, lost in this little girl next to him.

* * *

Serenity unfurled like a blanket over him as soon as the lunch bell rang to dismiss the crowd of students from the classroom. Starrk finally let out a long held yawn as soon as the room had considerably cleared out. To his side, Ulquiorra lifted himself out of his seat at the windows to make way for the paper-piled mess of Starrk's desk.

"Any word from the others?" He asked in a dull tone.

Starrk shook his head, feeling the relief of having no work wash over him.

"None yet." He said in a slurred voice. "Just in time for a coffee break."

"Another?"

"Don't act like you don't want one either." Starrk shot him a knowing look, to which his black-haired brother shrugged uncaringly.

"I could use one cup." Ulquiorra said quietly. "Maybe two..."

Starrk let out a heavy, burdensome sigh.

"What's the sentence this time?" He asked, bracing himself for the worst. Ulquiorra said nothing, but sighed sullenly as he brought a neatly folded piece of paper out from his pockets.

With as much motivation as he could muster, Starrk read over the daunting errands list yet again forced on his poor, sleep-deprived class aid.

"Luckily I managed to finish most of the work during this period, but the last task needs to be taken care of now, since we'll probably be called out by the Reaper unit to serve patrol during the free period." Ul said as he craned his neck, which Starrk assumed was probably stiff from carrying boxes from class to class all period.

"This is getting ridiculous." He concluded with a scowl at the scribbles of tasks laying mockingly among the countless papers on his desk. "This is way too much work for one guy. I'll complain to the school board about this sooner or later.

"Between what little time we have for patrol hours and grading, I don't see when you would possibly get the chance." Ulquiorra answered curtly. "It isn't anything I can't handle, so there's no need for you to worry about it."

"That's a dangerous level of self-efficacy." Starrk warned, though he certainly wasn't shocked by the response. Ever the efficient machine, Starrk's brother was always on top of things. Even so, everybody has their breaking point, and he was concerned that Ul was about to meet his sooner or later with all of that work piled on him, not to mention the excess hours of fighting out on the city patrol.

"You haven't been getting a lot of sleep." Starrk reminded him. "I can tell by your irritability. Case in point: the kitchen episode this morning."

"Yammy had it coming." The Cuatra Espada said, sounding frighteningly remorseless.

"Even so, I know you've been losing a lot of rest. Last time you got a list this bad, I had to practically carry your sleeping ass to the car."

"How long will you hold that over my head?" Ulquiorra asked in a bored voice. "Are you only upset because you keep having to drive us home and back?"

"That's beside the point, but do take that suffering on my part into consideration." Starrk said. "The real problem is that you're if you're too tired, you're not on your A-game out on the field. The Reapers won't accept that."

"Clearly." Ul muttered under his breath. Starrk's brow twitched in irritated agreement, but he spoke softly to quell the negativity coming from the both of them.

"I'm only warning you not to expend too much energy. Especially since..."

Starrk's voice trailed off as his eyes involuntarily flicked to the silver necklace hanging from Ulquiorra's neck; the rieatsu-restrictive pendant that Baraggan had informed him of. Leave it to the Soul Society to assign a punishment so absurdly ineffective to their cause, simply to assert authority. The little soul design glinted wickedly in the sunlight, like the unfeeling glare of an executioner.

Ulquiorra's eyes followed to the damning pendant, and immediately placed his hand over it, as if to obscure its view in hopes of avoiding a sensitive subject.

"It's fine." He insisted with a slightly strained voice. "I actually _have_ been getting more sleep lately because of..." He shook his head and cracked his knuckles loudly. "Never mind. The fact of the matter is that I'm fully capable of handling a few measly educational tasks. Don't needlessly worry yourself. It doesn't suit you."

_He's not wrong..._

Yet, Starrk couldn't help but feel the stress emitting from his overworked comrade. No doubt, all of the Espada felt overworked with their exhausting shifts out on the streets, but Starrk could sense some other form of anxiety distress his stoic brother. No matter how well Ul played the apathy card, he couldn't fool Starrk; especially not when he always caught his slitted eyes flicking back and forth from his work to a certain smiling human girl with pretty grey eyes.

Starrk had taken notice of his brother's sudden apprehension around the human girl. No doubt the two were always so awkward with each other, but once that melted away, there was a subtle implacable aura around the both of them. Even now, as his green eyes drifted over to catch a glimpse of her, Starrk could see a softer light overtake those cold, lifeless eyes as she smiled shyly at him.

"You sure, Ul?" Starrk asked again, this time almost gently.

Without hesitation, Ulquiorra flicked his eyes and back to him, and nodded devoutly.

Starrk looked into those disimpassioned eyes of his aloof brother, but found no trace of dishonesty in their green expanse. He eventually relented with a defeated sigh, but he still didn't approve.

"Just bring me a cup and I'll be fine." Ulquiorra assured.

"You're insane." He muttered tiredly.

Undaunted, Ulquiorra only looked off to the side. Starrk didn't miss how the barely visible dark circles were revealed in the warm sunlight.

"SENPAIIII!"

Of the few students left behind, a brown-haired one with an ear-to-ear grin approached from the back of the class, looking overly animated. Ulquiorra didn't react, aside from turning his head to the jaunty teenager and his quieter friend that followed.

"Yes? Keigo, right?"

"Ayyyy! You remembered!" The loud teen exclaimed excitedly as he hooked his arm around Ul's shoulders.

"It's my job to know everything about this class." Came the blunt answer from the even blunter covert hollow. "And Mizuiro, correct?"

"That's me." The milder, dark-haired boy answered with an amiable smile.

"Can I help you two?" Ulquiorra asked in a detached, mechanical voice.

"We were just wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with the rest of our guys on the rooftops." Mizuiro offered.

"Yeah, man! You're always workin' and stuff. Take a break with the boys!" Keigo insisted enthusiastically.

"Actually, I have-"

"Aww, forget the work! The teachers won't bust you since you've been doin' their work for weeks. You can totally get away with it!"

"I mean, it's your choice, Senpai." Mizuiro assured out of the politeness that his brown-haired friend seemed to lack.

"I..." Ulquiorra looked to Starrk for help, but only got a half-hearted shrug from the sleepy-eyed sensei.

"Come on, already!" Keigo droned on in a whiny voice. "Do you honestly _want_ to do all of this crap?"

Ulquiorra parted his lips for protest, but stopped hesitantly.

"It's not a matter of wanting to, so much as-"

"I didn't hear a rejection!" Keigo cheered."Sa-weeet! Let's get goin'!"

"Cool." Mizuiro followed as Ulquiorra, wide-eyed and seemingly overwhelmed, was helplessly dragged out the class doors.

"You kids have fun." Starrk waved to the unlikely trio bounding down the halls. A sudden wave of sympathy for his brother flooded his mind as soon as they were out of sight, but then immediately dissipated like steam at the sound of a husky voice.

"What the hell was that about?"

As he turned his head, his vision was taken up by the lithe form of one of his more outspoken and tomboyish female students, coincidentally the friend of the Espadas' oppositely demure and girly neighbor. As if on cue, the copper-haired head turner appeared at her friend's side.

"I guess even Ulquiorra can't escape Keigo's friendship." She said, smiling as if that was a good thing.

"Seriously?" The brunette girl cocked a dark brow at her friend. "Can't he just knock 'em out like me and Ichigo, and make a run for it?"

"Ulquiorra's not violent like that," She insisted defensively, though surreptitiously added in a hushed tone, "...all the time."

"Tell that to Yammy..." Starrk muttered under his breath.

He hadn't expected her to pick up on his faint whisper so acutely, and balked when her friendly grey eyes widened over at him in childlike curiosity.

"What happened to Yammy?" She asked innocently.

Within a few seconds, Starrk recovered to simply shrug the matter off.

"Got knocked out this morning after hiding Ul's coffee." He replied plainly. "We had to carry his unconscious ass outta the apartment. Needless to say, that guy doesn't take jokes very well." Starrk gestured to the hall he had disappeared down with the two high school boys.

To his surprise, a soft giggle sounded from the girl in front of him. Starrk turned to her with a quizzical look, but she shook her head, and smiled.

"Over coffee?" She asked with another light laugh. "I didn't think Ulquiorra was such an addict. That's so cute..."

_Not the reaction I was expecting...Yammy certainly didn't find it so funny..._

Her more hardy looking friend, Tatsuki, (he remembered that was her name) arched a surprised brow at this news.

"Huh. Respectable." She said, looking impressed. "I always figured that guy had some sort of fierce side. It's always the quiet ones."

"Like Chad, Ishida, and Ichigo." The grey-eyed girl chirped. "I know too many of those kinds of guys. So how's Yammy?" She asked amicably as she turned her smile back to Starrk.

"He's taken worse, believe me." He replied nonchalantly.

"That's the big guy, right?" Tatsuki crinkled her nose as of recalling a bad memory. "I'll consider that KO by Ulquiorra retribution on my part for that day a few years ago."

"It's okay." The girl said gently, placing a comforting hand on her frowning friend's shoulder. "He's a little less wild now."

"Pfft. I'll believe it when I see it."

"You wanna see it?"

"No, thank you..."

Starrk watched the rapid exchange between the two friends back and forth, feeling the oddest mix of confusion, amusement, and perplexity as to why the three of them were still there in the classroom. Upon noticing his probably lost expression, the girl laughed almost apologetically.

"Oh! It's okay, Starrk. Tatsuki knows."

Starrk blinked a few times before settling his blue-eyed gaze on the girl's unwavering brown-eyed one.

"You know?" He asked with a raised brow.

"I know." The tomboy replied with an affirmative nod. "About you guys, about Ichigo, and about the Reapers."

"The Soul Society didn't wipe her memory, since she was deemed trustworthy." Her friend explained with a proud smile, like a satisfied parent at their child's achievement.

_Wouldn't mind that privilege myself..._Starrk thought bitterly.

"Though, I don't really see any benefit in my knowing of it." Tatsuki shrugged uncaringly. "It's not that hard of a secret to keep either, so I don't know why Ichigo bitches about it so much."

At that point, Starrk realized that the whole class was empty save for him and these two odd human girls. It was strikingly abnormal talking to humans like this, especially considering Starrk's track record for killing off every being he came in contact with. These girls, who apparently knew exactly who and _what_ he was, should definitely be able to feel his now repressed spiritual pressure, and should still feel wary of him; but they talked casually and affably with him as if he were an actual high school teacher.

Especially the girl next door...Orihime. The way that she smiled so warmly and offered such an openly kind light in her grey eyes was something that wasn't common among people, humans and hollows alike, especially in the face of a former enemy.

Starrk could see why Ul was so absorbed in her.

"I see." He eventually muttered carefully.

"I would say something like 'you're secret's safe with me', but you don't look like the type to tolerate such clichés, sensei." Tatsuki shrugged in a laid-back manner similar to a certain someone he knew, but couldn't quite place in that spur of the moment.

"I see." He repeated awkwardly, feeling almost uncomfortable in this unusual situation.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Orihime's eyes lit up in remembrance of something. "Did you get your book?"

Why was it that this girl's saccharine amiability always pulled the rug out from underneath him? Starrk blinked again before reaching into his binder to pull out the thin hardcover book he received yesterday after Ulquiorra's and Tia's patrol.

"Yeah, that one!" She happily confirmed with a cheerful smile. "Ulquiorra told me that you specifically asked for it, and I thought it was so coincidental that I just read the same book a few weeks ago."

"Ulquiorra...told you?" Starrk asked in confusion and intrigue. When did this happen?

"Well, actually, I was kinda...there." She laughed sheepishly. "I was with my friend Rukia, and we happened to run into Ulquiorra and Halibel there. What a coincidence, right?"

_Indeed...and suspicious...why didn't Ul mention that? More importantly, why didn't Tia? That's what Lilynette was bitching about yesterday? How annoying..._

Starrk only hummed in response.

"It's such a nice read. I hope you enjoy it." She said with another one of those warm smiles she did so well.

Feeling tongue-tied again, Starrk merely choked out a brief, "Likewise."

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice and all, but can we please get to lunch?" Tatsuki hooked her arm in her friend's, looking pleading and impatient. "My mom's potato salad isn't gonna eat itself. Not like your Franken-food."

"Hey." The redheaded girl pouted. Then she turned her pretty eyes over to Starrk. "Are you going to eat in here?"

"I'm actually going to the office to a file complaint." He muttered too carelessly. He really needed to keep his guard up around this girl, and her amazingly keen perception. Her head did a double take at his ambiguous statement.

"A complaint?" She asked as a concerned tone graced her sweet-pitched voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh great..." Tatsuki muttered, bringing her fingertips to the bridge of her nose.

Starrk could have brushed if off, but looking into those watery, grey eyes was like falling and drowning in a lake. For whatever reason, it drew the truth out of him with more persuasion than an interrogation officer.

"Just in regard to all of the work Ul has to do." He answered as objectively as he could. "That or I'll get him an extension to work on it later."

"Oh yeah." Her voice dropped to a sad whisper. A flash of sympathy caught in her silvery eyes. "He's been working a lot."

"He was gone all period to do other work." Tatsuki suddenly said quite quietly.

"At least he isn't still falling asleep in class." Orihime said with a sort of sad smile on her face.

Starrk's eyes immediately darted up to the girl after recalling something. Her wide eyes found his before they fell downcast in what looked like embarrassment.

"Um...he woke up that time..." She mumbled awkwardly.

"Obviously. You were actually with him?" He inquired, feeling far more interested than he should have. What else was Ulquiorra not telling him? Just how much time was he spending with this girl?

"Y-yeah, I was..." She tried for a sheepish smile. "We just...talked for a while."

"A while?" Tatsuki suddenly arched her brow. "Is this about that time when you ditched us and skipped lunch altogether last week?"

"I didn't ditch!" She cried out. "I told you, I just lost track of time. I said I was sorry."

"I didn't say you had to apologize." Tatsuki thumped her arm lightly. "I was just wondering what took you so long to get your lunch."

"Well, we just got caught in conversation." Orihime insisted. "One of the topics was all of the work he had to do...is he okay?"

_Hell if I knew..._

"Hard to tell." He answered in a quiet murmur, before he flicked his tired eyes up to her large, blinking ones. "Try asking him yourself." He suggested.

"You do seem to be quite chummy with him." Tatsuki added in a suspicious tone.

While blushing profusely from the implications of the conversation, the girl had a pensive look on her face as if actually considering the offer. Starrk dropped his eyes from both girls to the thin, metallic slip of white peeking out from his pocket. He was overcome with a strong urge to call Ulquiorra to discuss the matter further with him, but he decided against it.

What the hell was he doing gossiping with two schoolgirls about his own comrade?

_Man, I need some coffee... _He mentally complained.

He stood abruptly from the desk and quietly excused himself from the two chatting girls. Just as he was about to exit through the doors, he stopped midway.

More accurately, he was stopped.

"What does he have to do for today?"

Both pairs of eyes, blue and brown, looked over in surprise at the suddenly firm sound of the Orihime's soft voice.

"Why do you ask?" He and Tatsuki echoed each other.

Neither of them missed how scarlet splashed onto her cheeks in sudden embarrassment.

"Well, I was just wondering if...maybe..."

As she tried to formulate a credible response, Starrk found that he was, yet again, taken aback by her unpredictable nature. A brief moment flashed in his eyes, of Baraggan's warning to Ulquiorra over this very human girl. At the time, he hadnt necessarily understood the need for caution, but as it turns out, Baraggan was right. She was something special; the only human thus far he found completely deviant from the rest of her kind.

* * *

Gusts of soft wind sifted through the bright orange spikes of hair that crowned Karakura High's toughest, and also most misunderstood, 'delinquent', sitting on the rooftops with his other muscular and mislabeled friend. Ichigo and Chad sat against the belfry of the school's main building, eating their bento, and quietly chatting about clandestine affairs while waiting for the rest of their lunch mates to arrive.

By 'clandestine affairs', Ichigo wasn't referring to anything scandalous. No, nothing of that variety, unless a Soul Reaper being forced into cooperative partnership with a hollow, a natural enemy, could be considered gossip-worthy by the Soul Society's Women's League.

"How is the parole going?" Chad asked while taking a bite of his sushi roll. "I mean, the partnership?"

Ichigo blew a few spikes up from his forehead before sighing along with the gentle wind.

"Terrible." He answered darkly. "Callin' it a partnership is way too big a stretch. It's more like forced cooperation. Not only is it unmanageable, but it's just such a drag."

"Is it Grimmjow?" Chad asked tentatively.

"Kinda, but..." Ichigo faltered to scowl at the ground beneath them. The shadow of his intertwined fingers resembled the convergence of two sides of a battle, with darkness shaded over each warring party.

_Partnership my ass. _He thought pessimistically.

This probation agreement decided by the Soul Society had sounded like a far-fetched farce to begin with, but actually having to bear through with it was tougher than Ichigo had thought. Not only was he losing a huge chunk of time for schoolwork, but also a near unhealthy amount of sleep in trying to finish all of his work. Just this morning, Yuzu had fretfully pointed out that he was getting bags underneath his eyes. Explaining the reasons for being out so late was a pain since he couldn't reveal his otherworldly occupation to anyone. As a result, his overly imaginative family fit their own puzzle pieces to surmise three conclusions that he was either involved in some crime syndicate, an ilicit relationship, or just goofing off with his friends.

Sighing, he slouched back against the belfry side, and brought his rough fingers to his sweaty brow. He closed his eyes, feeling the sunlight pierce the skin of his eyelids a pale scarlet. Even after considerably cooling off, the sun's hot rays soaked into him, with harsh warmth pulsating in accordance to his suddenly sedate heartbeat.

"But what?" He heard Chad's serene voice along with the chipper whistle of the wind. He opened his amber eyes to find the azure skies further illuminated by the golden light seeping out from the resplendent halo that encompassed the sun.

"It's complicated. I figured it'd just be hours of us getting in screaming matches, but he doesn't even get _mad." _Ichigo explained in frustration. "He just messes with me, and the next minute he totally ignores me, and then just takes off on his own. So freakin' annoying."

Chad nodded along as Ichigo bitched and moaned about his Arrancar partner. It made Ichigo feel a bit guilty that he was burdening his friend with his own petty problems, but Chad had always been a good listener (not that Ichigo was as needy as Tatsuki made him out to be).

"I'm not sure what his problem is, but isn't it best if you two stay clear of each other anyway?" He pointed out. "It seems as though you two can't get along, so maybe he's avoiding you to avoid another fight."

"Could be, but that doesn't explain why he goes to the greatest lengths to drive me insane." Ichigo muttered.

"Maybe he just needs a laugh." Chad suggested, but Ichigo elbowed his arm at the teasing undertones hidden in his friend's deep voice. "I'm only saying, it's kind of entertaining to see you blow a fuse."

"So my pain brings him pleasure? Sadly, I can believe it." Ichigo grumbled as he tore a bite out of his sandwich. "That doesn't exactly push along the alliance sentiment that we're trying to achieve."

Chad's deep set eyes were on him for a while until the low rumble of his voice rang clear in the silent afternoon.

"You really want this 'peace' to work out now?"

Hesitantly, Ichigo nodded his head in agreement. He couldn't lie to himself; as much as he detested the idea of spending so much time with his former enemy, Ichigo had hoped that after a week, they would have arrived at _some_ sort of mutual understanding. It was a fleeting vision of peace that he was naive to hold on to, but he couldn't help it. Sure they were getting their work done, finishing off hollows and defending the city and all, but there was little 'collaboration' involved in his and Grimmjow's patrol together.

They weren't getting along. In fact, Grimmjow's reluctance to actually participate, while unsurprising, made it seem like he resented Ichigo even more.

_"Tell me how much worse you're going to make mine and my friends' problems with your little Soul Reaper powers." _

Ichigo let out an unheard sigh. Like he said, he wasn't surprised. It would take a lifetime for him to fully understand the bitterness of the Espada. At times, he really admired and was envious of Orihime's emotional sagacity.

"I just want don't want another Winter War." He eventually murmured out. "That time left scars, and I don't think anyone's ready to jump back into that kinda hell, especially with the Menos threat right now. If we do end up fighting, who can we trust to help us?"

"The Quincy wouldn't want anything to do with it." Chad confirmed quietly. "Even with Ishida's efforts, I doubt they would budge."

"I could have had an easier time believing in an alliance with them as opposed to the Espada." Ichigo said. "I feel like chances of another battle with them are just too likely. We can't risk that in our situation. And...":

Moments of silence passed as Chad patiently waited for Ichigo to say what was really troubling him.

"I just don't want more blood on my hands."

The wind blew by to wrap its cool embrace around him. It carried his faint whisper out into the open air, above a city full of the blissfully blind, deaf, and ignorant. Ichigo didn't have to look into Chad's eyes to know that there was a glimmer of understanding in them.

He was about to ask to trade another roll for part of his sandwich, but a loud sound, a.k.a Keigo, shattered the tranquility.

"ICHIGOOOOOO-GWAH!"

"Yo, Keigo." Ichigo replied impassively, tenderly removing his elbow from the dented area in his loud friend's skull.

"Always sooo prepared..." Keigo laughed, despite writhing in pain at Ichigo's side. "Yoooo Chad!"

"Good afternoon, Keigo." Chad greeted politely.

"Aww, quit bein' so formal, dude!" The brown-haired teen whined. "We're young! Bask in the privilege to be as much of an pretentious prick while you can!"

"I really worry for your future, _Mr. Asano_." Mused a light-hearted male voice.

"Quit it, Mizuiro!" Keigo cried.

Ichigo lifted his head to greet his other friend, but the words on his tongue died at the sight of three dark heads. By that, he meant, three heads of familiarly dark hair. The first two he easily recognized; smiling Mizuiro and placid Ishida, who looked particularly irked, as seen by the troubled crease in his brow, to which Ichigo attributed to the third head of dark hair aside him.

Dark hair, pale skin, and cold, inhuman, emerald eyes.

"Guess who we brought as a guest!" Keigo chirped happily, unaware of the mood shift present on the rooftops.

Ichigo felt Chad tense beside him, just as he was aware of his own gaping lips. He flicked wide, inquisitive eyes over to Ishida, who returned his stupefied gaze with a half-worried, half-apologetic knit of his brows.

"Ulquiorra..." He eventually stammered out after finding his voice. The unperturbed, glacial green of his eyes drifted over to him.

"Ichigo." He replied without hesitation.

"We thought it'd be cool if senpai could join us for lunch." Mizuiro offered up tentatively, seemingly trying to pacify the tense aura.

"I see." Ichigo replied slowly, not breaking his glaring contest with the Cuatra Espada.

"Yeah!" Keigo affirmed, standing to throw his arms over Ulquiorra's and Ishida's shoulders in a friendly gesture that the two of them had no intention of returning. "It's been almost a month since you and sensei arrived, so we wanted to get to know you better. Where exactly are you guys from? More importantly, gimme a rundown of the chicks there! Hotter than our resident Japanese babes?!"

"I'll go help him..." Chad offered generously, standing to save Ulquiorra from Keigo's assault of questions. His spot was immediately taken by Ishida, who had managed to break free of Keigo's friendship hold, while Mizuiro sat at Ichigo's other side.

"So explain to me how _that_," Ichigo gestured to the most unlikely trio of people he could have imagined. "Happened."

"Don't look at me." Ishida jerked his head at a guilty looking Mizuiro.

"Okay look," The calm boy held his hands up in peace. "Before you point fingers, I will duly inform you that this was all on Keigo's whim. I only went along to placate him. Plus, things have calmed down between you and senpai, so I figured it couldn't hurt to just eat with him."

"I mean, it wouldn't but..." Ichigo crossed his arms, unable to divulge the true workings of his discomfort to Mizuiro. Then again, his cordial friend wasn't wrong. The initial animosity between Ichigo and Ulquiorra had sibsided quite a bit. Still, Ichigo wouldn't consider them to be on _friendly_ terms...just well acquainted with each other.

"You know, you never actually explained what was up with you and Ul-senpai and Starrk sensei." Mizuiro said in a careful voice. "If it's that bad, then I won't get involved anymore."

Ichigo flicked his eyes between Ishida and Mizuiro. Both friends of his had looks of understanding in their eyes, but for different reasons. Then his eyes traveled over to his green-eyed source of trepidation. In the middle of a dispute between erratic Keigo and collected Chad, Ulquiorra's blank gaze left the both of them to only briefly glance back at Ichigo.

"It's cool, Mizuiro." Ichigo assured quietly. "What's in the past is in the past. You're right. Those bad feelings are almost gone anyway, so it's no big deal."

"You sure?"

Ichigo gave a sideways look to him, before standing to his feet, and stepping up to the emotionless hollow across from him.

_I am. _

A cool staredown commenced; intense, but not hostile.

_I'll prove it._

"Can we talk?"

* * *

Bloodstains streaked across the rough surface of Santa Teresa's dark, crescent blades. The ruby red patterns painted the glistening steel like art on a canvas. Nnoitra turned his eye away from the bloody beauty in just the right time to pierce the skull of an incoming Vasto Lorde. More of that beautiful blood spurted out, swayed away with the dust in the strong winds, and glittered in the golden light of the sun. His grin extended wider over his face as more prey charged to battle, practically begging him to shed their blood.

The ear-shattering screech of an Adjucha sounded from his side. It's mangled fangs snapped like a steel trap against his weapon's curved blade, but Nnoitra threw it back with a Bala. He laughed as its listless body slammed onto the concrete, but before he could let Santa Teresa dive in for the final kill, a sleeker blade nullified the lethal attack.

He didn't have to turn to know whose it was. He could always recognize Gamuza's mocking gleam.

"Neliel." He growled as he shot her a sideways glare.

Yet again, he was met with those thick, billowing waves of turquoise; frowning full lips; and those damning, glassy hazel eyes that he despised so passionately.

"That was too close." She echoed, this time with a severe tone strung around her girlish voice. "Get serious, dummy. You coulda been hurt."

Nnoitra instinctively scowled at her insufferable dogging.

"So what?" He challenged with a venomous glare, even though she was absolutely correct; had she been any later, the hollow would have died at his hands, and Nnoitra would be writhing from the pain emissions from the soul band.

"Next time, I'm not going to help you." She promised astutely, though she seemed relieved that she had arrived on time to save him.

That bitch.

"I don't need yer damn help." He felt his grip on the hilt of his weapon tighten dangerously.

Within seconds, a Reaper from her assigned unit arrived at the scene to finish off the limp Adjucha. Before the young looking male returned to his unit, he looked back at the hollow pair glaring at each other.

"Th-thank you for sparing this Menos." He gave a quick bow towards Neliel. Her eyes shifted over to him and softened at his gesture. She nodded back at him briefly before settling her intense gaze back at her brother.

"And, um..." He began as he faced Nnoitra. It didn't even take an actual glare to make the little shrimp flinch in fear.

"P-please be more c-c-careful in the future." He stammered under Nnoitra's heavy gaze.

The Quinta Espada blew up a few bangs before settling Santa Teresa on the concrete.

"Whatever, kid. Beat it."

He graciously accepted the order and bowed before flash stepping back to his comrades, who were struggling against a colony of Gillian.

Nnoitra seethed at the sight. Damn Reapers. As if they couldn't ruin the battle experience any more by swiping their kills, the amateurish runts had to be so meek about combat. They could barely hold their own against the Menos, and yet they ripped away the glory of winning from the Espada. It was a total insult to a true warrior, but they had no choice: this degrading manner of fighting was preferable to not fighting at all.

Nnoitra glared off in the Reaper's direction until Gamuza's metal hilt jabbed ferociously into his temple.

"Ow!" He held his throbbing head before glowering down at the blade's female owner. "What the hell do ya want?!"

"For you to get your act together." Neliel answered ardently, glaring up at him with equal intensity.

"What did you say?" He growled warningly.

"You already messed up four times today." She carried on with the annoying-ass draconian tone she only ever reserved for him. "That's way more than usual. The Reapers are going to get testy if you don't start taking things seriously."

"Tch. I already damn know. What? Did Szayel send you again, little messenger?" He coldly mocked her from above.

"No." She answered back with a steeled look in her eyes. "I don't need him to know when you're being stupid."

"Listen you little whore-!"

"Hey!"

The both of them turned their glares to an ireful looking Yammy, who was wrestling with a pair of heftly looking Adjuchas.

"Quit fucking with each other and help out!"

"Too much to handle for ya, Deadweight?" Nnoitra jeered maliciously. "Or ya still feelin' shaky from when Ul knocked yer bitch-ass out this morning?"

"Shut it Snake-Eyes!" The hulking Arrancar shot back. "Says you, gettin' _your_ bitch-ass whipped by your girlfriend!"

"You wanna say that to my face?!"

"Stop fighting!" Neliel yelled in between the both of them.

"My, my!" Szayel called out from an aerial battle above them. "Can we save the bickering for the dinner table?"

"No fighting on the job!" A Reaper shouted from one of the units near Yammy. "Pay attention to the battle!"

"Oh, fuck off!" Nnoitra roared back, while charging near a colony of Gillian. Ceroes fired at him from all angles, but none could keep up with his Sonido. Down fell each Menos Grande as he undercut each's colossal legs; all the while, Reapers from above took the advantage of his attacks to target the masks from above.

"Fuckin' annoying." He muttered under the strain of one Gillian's huge foot. Forcing himself upwards, Nnoitra pierced Santa Teresa harder into the tough sole, and knocked the gargantuan creature off balance. It's roar reverberated off the skyscraper edges, ringing in his ears like a chaotic symphony to the rhythmic rushing of his blood. In the spur of the moment, Nnoitra lost himself to the consuming heat of battle. His body moved on its own: even with the powerful gales battling against him, he was rushing closer and closer by breathtaking speeds, dragging the blade of his weapon across the expanse of black skin up to the neckline, just to where the pulsating center of life breathed awaitingly for him to silence it...

All until fire coursed through his veins, poison burned every sense of his, and every nerve of his was electrified by the agony of the soul band's shock spreading pain through his body. As the Menos Grande fell forward, Nnoitra's limp body was at the mercy of gravity, and soon to be grabbed by a rampaging Adjuchas.

Until a flash of green zipped by, and more streaks of crimson highlighted the pale skies above him.

Buildings cracked, voices shouted, and various parts of him ached. Nnoitra groaned and cursed as he attempted to sit up from a pile of rubble from the alley block he just landed into. His efforts to escape the stacked debris were nullified by another burdensome weight against him.

"Oww...get off me, Neliel..." He scowled at the dust-covered face of the Tercera Espada sprawled in a heap on top of him.

"I wish I could..." She grimaced, squirming against their binding. "But my leg is caught on something."

"That's _my_ leg." He growled as he, too, struggling from underneath her. "Get off! Yer tits are suffocating me!"

"You disgusting jerk! Don't say that!"

"Then quit fuckin' squirmin' on me! Get the hell off!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

In the midst of their struggles, a pair of Reapers flash stepped down to their location to remove some of the rubble binding them together. As soon as the sun shined on their heated predicament, the two Reapers, a male and female, turned redder than the stains on their shikai.

"Uh...you two are free now..."

"Tch." Nnoitra shoved Neliel off of him, eliciting a yelp and indignant scowl from the hollow girl. As he stood, Nnoitra flicked his slanted eyes over to the frozen Reaper pair.

"This look like some kinda show to you?" He bared his teeth menacingly at them. "Get lost!"

They immediately complied, and flash stepped to the rest of their zippy little units trying to finish off a group of Vasto Lorde.

"Errggh..." Nnoitra winced at the throbbing in his head before scowling down at the woman still down in the rubble.

"Oww..." She shot a nasty glare up at him as she rubbed a spot on her head. "Whatever. Your welcome, by the way."

"For what?" He growled as he brushed dust bits off of his body. She also stood to her full height to pat out some of the debris that matted her floating turquoise locks.

"Nothing..." She muttered with a sour look on her face.

"No, please tell me." He challenged acerbicly. "Tell me all about how you heroically saved my ass. That's what you wanted to say, right?"

"Oh forget it. I didn't say anything." She snarled back at him, looking completely different from the normal annoyingly cheerful girl she had turned into.

"Thought you said you weren't gonna save me again?" He muttered back bitterly.

"I gave into the goodness of my heart." She answered back plainly, avoiding all eye contact with him.

"Bullshit."

There was that dangerous glare of hazel that he knew so well, yet hadn't seen in ages.

"What did you say?" She echoed his words in a tone more acidic than even he could muster.

"You heard me." He sneered spitefully. "Please. 'Goodness of my heart' my ass. We're fucking hollows, so don't try to play human with me, bitch."

"If _I'm_ the bitch, why do _you_ need to be saved all the time?!" She yelled at him in complete fury. "That was your fault for killing that Gillian, even though I warned you!"

The wind moaned malevolently as Nnoitra drew a vicious glare her way. His hair was flying about chaotically like black flames, but his anger was rigidly fixated on the woman below him.

"Why the hell do you even care?!" He shouted back. "Don't leave your battle just to help me when I don't need it, stupid!"

"You were gonna get hurt!" She screamed, but her large eyes shined with worry, as if she genuinely cared. Rage bubbled in him at the sight of altruism in those cold, warrior eyes that he knew too well. The wolfish howl of the wind echoed as his messy dark hair was whipped back from the darker glare of his eyes.

"So fucking what?" He growled between clenched teeth. "You wanna know why I did that? Because I can." He enunciated each word with absolute malice, feeling his stormy serpent eyes narrow down at her in contempt.

"The hell do you even care for? Are you a freakin' nanny? If they wanna put me in a timeout or torture me through this damn band," He lifted the dark soul band to let it gleam in the sun, making her furious expression falter ever so slightly.

"Then that's my problem." He lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. "Get off my ass already. You take every moment to act all high and mighty like you're some big help. Don't insult me."

The discontent in her eyes subsided a bit to make room for something akin to sympathy.

It enraged him even more.

"What's so insulting about looking out for a comrade?" She asked in that repulsively soft little voice hers. The shiny hazel flashed with disgusting sincerity.

"Don't take that 'comrade' label so seriously, dumbass." He spat. "It don't matter whether or not we're on the same side: we're not friends, Neliel. Don't act like we are."

"I'm not acting." She insisted with wide eyes.

"Save it." He concluded acidicly. "Get back to the battle."

"Nnoi-"

"Call me by that nickname, and this blade gets thrust through your throat." He threatened murderously.

Her wide eyes glimmered with the threat of angry tears, but she steeled herself against his glare with her own livid glower.

"Nnoitra."

His name nearly echoed in the raging city, amongst the onslaught of hollows that roared in the distance. With the dust blowing around them from the severe winds, the air saturated with the aura of death, and hatred swarming dangerously around them like flames, it felt like they were just outside Las Noches after a fight, breathing haggardly, bleeding, and detesting each other with all of their might.

He reveled in the feeling.

Hearing her voice, her real voice and not the girly falsetto of this 'Nel' persona, spit out his name like it was a hateful vulgarity, opened his eyes to the real Neliel, and not this broken woman he and his comrades had been reunited with. Her voice held as much contempt as he had been trying to get out of her since their days in Las Noches, but she never yielded to his assaults. He didn't want their history to be a one-sided struggle. He wanted her to hate him as much as he hated her; he wanted her to acknowledge his hatred, to acknowledge him as someone worthy of another warrior's hatred, not just some beast, something she had called him too many times to forgive, even after so many years.

It was absurd, but he wanted her to say his name again.

Before anything else could be said or done, two oppositely built figures dropped down to where they were, looking bloody, bruised, and bemused.

"Okay, break it up." Szayel lilted with a mocking motherly tone. "You kids need to stop fighting now."

"Shove it down your throat, faggot." Nnoitra shoved his bony shoulder violently. The pink-haired man only chuckled in full enjoyment of the situation. "Why're you even here?"

"This display of sexual frustration seems to be distracting our poor Reapers up there." Szayel drawled mischievously.

"Sexual-!" Neliel squeaked as a light red dusted her cheeks.

"I thought I told you guys not to fuck each other?" Yammy jeered with his arms crossed and lips spread in a smug smirk.

"Yammy!" Neliel punched the side of his arm in outrage.

"You two just can't seem to hold anything in, can you?" Szayel mused with a sadistic glimmer in the gold of his laughing eyes. "When we say 'play nice' the expression isn't meant to be taken in literal terms."

"Fuck all of you." Nnoitra spat hatefully.

He clenched his fist and grabbed Santa Teresa roughly. Before raging off to the ongoing battle, he gazed at the woman before him for a long time.

Neliel Tu Oderschvank.

More accurately, the woman she used to be. Looking at her now was appalling. The warrior that had bested him through each battle they had engaged in, was withered down to this pathetic-looking, pathetic-sounding, overall debased little girl. It pissed him off that this was what became of the woman he spent so much time hating because of her strength, her mind, and her self-proclaimed ability to see what he couldn't.

After taking her and her fracciónes out so long ago, he wanted her memory wiped clean from Hueco Mundo, so that it may never again echo in the Las Noches. He reveled in the vision of her and her weak comrades falling prey to some stronger hollows so that he'd never hear of her again, and yet she came back to haunt him. This person she had become was his doing. She would never be the same Neliel again, only this despicable creature before him.

He hated her for that almost as much as he hated himself. With one final look at her thick locks flying about in the fierce wind, Nnoitra returned to the heated embrace of calamity.

* * *

Strands of midnight black floated up to the azure skies, like black ink dripping into the ocean. Ulquiorra gave up his attempt to anchor the stray locks, and simply let the breeze run its gentle caress through them. The wind was far more lively than usual today. Its smooth flow was far less harsh than the abrasive gales that slithered in the pale dunes of Hueco Mundo. Even if he wasn't accustomed to it, Ulquiorra found the weather in this human world to be a preferable change to the inhospitable conditions of his former residence.

Just as he watched a few more waves of darkness stretch out to the incandescent sky, a rough voice sounded from his side.

"Wind's killer today."

He darted his eyes over to the side, where the inescapable head of bright orange spikes was just beyond his. The Substitute Soul Reaper, Ichigo Kurosaki, sat quietly with him at the edge of the school rooftop, glaring up at the sky with that fixed, trademark scowl. Even with the unintentionally sour expression, the Reaper teen's voice was more at ease than usual. As he turned his brown eyes over to meet Ulquiorra's green ones, the look on his face smoothed out into something less rigid.

"I'm assuming you didn't call me out here to discuss the weather. May I have an explanation?" Ulquiorra asked, sounding detached.

He had already been dragged to the belfry against his will when he had work to do, and the last thing he wanted was more tiresome drivel to pour out from a conversation with his former enemy. He could have excused himself politely, seeing as he didn't think the Reaper and his friends would so disappointed with his absence, but the boy staring intensely at him seemed quite adamant in speaking with him at that very moment.

The light in those amber eyes was impressively unyielding. "I just need to talk to you for a little while."

Ulquiorra resisted the urge to sigh.

"Can you specify what exactly it is that you feel the need to discuss with me?" He said a little impatiently, like a fatigued child tired from running errands with a parent.

A short rasp of breath escaped his mouth, but from the subtle smirk at the edge of his lips, Ulquiorra could tell it was a laugh. He didn't know whether to be irritated or confused.

"It's weird." Ichigo replied, still smirking. "It looks like we've switched places with each other."

"What does that mean?"

"You're the impatient guy that got dragged into a situation he doesn't want to be in, and just wants to get the hell out as soon as possible." Ichigo explained. "And I'm the patient one that has something to say, but won't say it. Sound familiar?"

Sadly, it did.

"I fail to find any humor in that observation." Ulquiorra answered bluntly.

"I never said it was funny." Ichigo pointed out. "Just weird, I guess."

The sigh escaped.

"Why am I here, Kurosaki?"

The orange-headed teen scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, seemingly trying to come up with a justifiable response; as if he didn't have the sense to do so earlier?

"I guess I-"

"You _guess_ or you _know_?" Ulquiorra chided in a teacherly manner. He nearly scowled at how much he was starting to sound like Baraggan. Nel was right: this position in the educational field really was getting to him.

"Lemme start over." Ichigo held up a peaceful hand, uncharacteristically unruffled by the interruption. "I wanted to ask..."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes awaitingly, already feeling a little more than fed up with this situation. The heavy weight of his eyelids was hard to resist against, and he could feel himself slip off of the precipice of consciousness. If this kid didn't say something soon, Starrk was going to have to scour the school for Ulquiorra's listless, sleeping body...

"How's Grimmjow?"

That caught his attention. Lifeless jade met with intense amber.

"I mean," The Reaper teen continued. "Has he been acting different or anything?"

Had he heard correctly...?

Ulquiorra replied with a quizzical look. "You're his partner. Why not ask him yourself?"

"That's the thing. We don't really talk unless it's some dumb argument." Ichigo mumbled sullenly. "This probation thing you talked to me about before isn't exactly working out."

"Did you expect anything else from a man who doesn't exactly have a very high opinion of you?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Not at first." Ichigo replied rather quietly.

Gusts of wind blew the orange spikes around so ostentatiously that it was hard not to stare into the warm brown expanse of his eyes.

"What are you saying?" Ulquiorra asked, feeling a little more engaged.

It took him time to respond again, but Ulquiorra excused it this time.

"Something changed. I think it was sometime when Grimmjow ditched me downtown just last week."

"Ditched you?"

"You know, like, abandoning-"

"I know what the word means." Ulquiorra answered curtly. "You mean he leaves the patrol?"

"No, he still stays within out limits, but he just wanders off." The teen clarified with a slight furrow in his brow. "It's worse with that damn bike he's always riding away on. Where'd he even get that?"

"I wouldn't know." Ulquiorra lied and looked off to the side.

"Anyway," Ichigo continued. "I've just been noticing some weird stuff about him. Like, he's not specifically doing anything bad. He's just ignoring me. It's not like him, so it's unnerving. I was wondering if you knew what was up."

Ulquiorra eyed the teenager next to him carefully. The way his eyebrows were fixed in a worried knit indicated that he was genuinely concerned about the issue with the Espadas' resident troublemaker. To be fair, none of the Espada had any expectation for the partnership between Reaper and Arrancar to have productive results. The only reason Grimmjow wasn't starting a massive uprising over the arrangement was for his zanpakuto's sake, something they could all understand.

But had he truly changed? Ulquiorra could barely remember the last time he had spoken with his quarrelsome brother. He hadn't heard any bad news over Grimmjow's behavior, which he had considered good thing, but also disconcerting. Now that he thought about it, what was going on with his blue-haired brother? It had never occurred to Ulquiorra to consider the impact of Pantera's loss on Grimmjow, but that was only because he figured the initial shock had been quelled with the sword's return to him.

"It almost sounds as if you're worried about him."

His monotonous voice gave away no hint of teasing, but the crease in Ichigo's brow deepened in irritation.

"As if." He said defensively, almost childishly. "I just don't wanna put up with a month of his crap. Speaking of which, how long has it been anyway?"

"Starting today," Ulquiorra answered dully. "Only a week."

He practically deflated at the morose words.

"Great. Just what I wanted to hear..." He muttered miserably, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It was almost interesting how the Substitute Reaper's cool demeanor melted away to reveal the troubled face of a stressed teenager. He certainly didn't look like the black-cloaked Shinigami warrior who stormed the Hollow World and defeated Aizen.

He looked like what he was: a boy.

Ulquiorra eased back on the opposite edge of the belfry, where Ichigo's other friends were engaged in whatever careless conversation. He could feel the rieatsus of the Quincy and Chad Yasutora steady and alert in case of any conflict. Not that Ulquiorra had any intention of starting something; he wasn't so choleric like his brothers, and even if he was, he was already sick of all of the confrontation with the Reapers.

A little peace was due after so much strife.

"I'll discuss the matter with Grimmjow." He affirmed diplomatically. "It may not be a serious offense, but the rules of probation state that he must stay within range of his governing officer. If either of you want to avoid an extension of this partnership, then you both have to play the rules."

"That's what I've been tellin' him..." Ichigo sighed out in exasperation. "Sorry to put that on you."

"Don't needlessly apologize. Grimm's never been one for collaboration." Ulquiorra replied plainly. Something about the statement made the Reaper teen balk.

"Oh." He blinked. "You call him that, too...?"

Ulquiorra broke eye contact to blink himself, and then he cracked his knuckles in contemplation.

"I usually don't..." He said both to himself and Ichigo.

The odd silence went undisturbed by nothing but the soft hymn of the peaceful wind.

"You know, I always thought you guys hated each other." Ichigo suddenly said. "But, it seems like you've kinda mellowed down. I still can't picture you two as friends though..."

"We're not friends." Ulquiorra muttered back, ignoring the slight irritated twitch of his brow. "I only tolerate him."

"Well yeah, but you guys are comrades." Ichigo persisted with an arched brow. "It's normal if you sometimes don't get along. It's kinda like how I get pissed at Ishida and Renji all the time."

"Hardly." Ulquiorra countered a little more defensively than he had intended. "Comradeship isn't friendship. The only reason I'm acquainted with him is because we're both Espada. Nothing more."

He thought he heard the teen mutter something off to the side, but no dice when he interrogated him about it. (A/N: Lol, he said 'tsundere'.)

"What I meant to say is," The Reaper continued. "That you guys are somewhat closer knit now. Back in Hueco Mundo, it didn't seem like any of you valued each other as even comrades. Like how Nnoitra attacked Grimmjow after I had defeated him..."

The crease in his brow was back, but it lingered only until a sad light washed through the bright tawny color of his eyes. They had a far away look in them, as if looking back at the memory inspired sympathy for his enemies, instead of a justified satisfaction in defeating them.

"Or like how Yammy-ah...never mind." He shook his head.

"What did Yammy do?" Ulquiorra asked. Huh. He was only just now realizing how often he had repeated that exact phrase.

"Ahmm...it's nothing."

Nothing, but he refused to look at him. Ulquiorra almost rolled his eyes.

"If it has anything to do with me, then I don't really care." He assured plainly. "In case you don't remember, our relationship wasn't anything special."

The bright-haired teen still looked uncomfortable, but gave an uneasy shrug.

"He just didn't seem all that affected after you..."

"Died?" Ulquiorra offered indifferently.

It looked like Ichigo nearly winced, but he nodded his head. "Uh, yeah. Anyway, that just didn't sit right with me. He was even insulting you. It just pissed me off."

"Like I said, we don't have the best relationship." Ulquiorra shrugged off the matter. "Just this morning, we had our own little violent episode."

"Over what?"

"Nothing important." Ulquiorra answered, though the memory still settled a negative feeling over him.

"From the looks of it, you were the one that ended up walking away." The teen stated with an arched brow.

Remorselessly, he nodded.

"Yeah, I've heard from Orihime that you guys are really rambunctious." Ichigo affirmed, thankfully not noticing the slight release of tension from Ulquiorra as soon as the girl was brought to mind.

"So she complains to you about it?"

"No, she's never one to complain about anything." Ichigo noted with a suspiciously lighter voice than usual. "She's not like that. If it comes up in a conversation, she'll just mention it offhandedly. She agrees that you guys seem a bit closer to each other."

Ulquiorra eyed him for a while before asking, "What happened to that initial animosity over our proximity to her? You seem to being her up so lightheartedly now."

Ichigo nodded his head slowly, remembering his threat to the hollow just a few weeks ago. How much had happened in just that little time that it led up to this moment?

"Like I said, you guys have kinda mellowed down, so I feel more at ease with her around you. If she's okay, then I'm okay."

There again was that serenity that seemed to drape over the irate redhead each time he talked about his equally redheaded friend. For the oddest reason, that Ulquiorra found impossible to place, the little observation slightly annoyed him, but he brushed it off. The phrase 'mellowed down' seemed quite inaccurate; the chain around Ulquiorra's neck seemed heavier, but he resisted attracting attention to it.

"I mean, you guys are no where near as...villainous as you used to be." Ichigo continued softly, bringing one knee up to rest his arm on.

_Were we villains in your eyes? Because the tables certainly seemed to have turned with the Soul Society._

He'd never risk saying that out loud though.

"What were you expecting?" Ulquiorra couldn't help but ask quietly. "Another army of adversaries?"

Unsurprisingly, he shook his head, but the sad light in his eyes flashed brighter.

"Not another war." He said in an even quieter voice. "The scars from that fight are still deep. A lot of us haven't totally gotten over it."

_We can tell. _

"That's probably the reason for all of the Reapers' bad attitudes." He said apologetically. "It's just a wave of paranoia. That kind of thing makes people act differently than they normally do. Most Soul Reapers aren't that harsh."

_Don't try to tell a hollow that, kid._

Just then, those brown eyes seemed to catch something.

"Where'd you get that necklace?"

Ulquiorra looked down to find that he had been absent-mindedly fiddling with the little soul pendant hanging from the chain. The light that glinted off of it wasn't nearly as pleasant as the sunlight around them.

"Nel picked it up somewhere."

"Don't lie."

Ulquiorra gave a sideways look to meet the serious glare of the Reaper teen.

"I've seen that kind of merchandise in the Soul Society Women's League shops. I can tell by the shitty design, but pendant on that one has a rieatsu-restrictive seal that Rukia showed me before. Why are you wearing it?"

He asked the question as if the incident was absurd. Ulquiorra brushed back a few swaying black locks before holding his hand over the silver pendant.

"I had a less than friendly confrontation with Squad Eleven Reapers a few days ago on patrol." He answered plainly.

Remembrance flashed in the amber of his eyes.

"Oh yeah..." Ichigo rubbed his chin. "Rukia mentioned something like that happened. One of the Espada got hostile with a unit from Squad Eleven. I woulda thought it'd be Nnoitra, considering his last fight with Kenpachi."

"You heard about it?" Ulquiorra asked incredulously.

"You wouldn't believe how easily gossip spreads in the Soul Society." Ichigo muttered in annoyance. "Squad Eleven's not only huge, but full of a bunch of hotheads like their Captain. I can see where that kinda trouble would happen."

_They started it..._Ulquiorra felt like saying, but what would the point be? He only hummed in response.

"They punished you for it?" Ichigo asked in what sounded like disbelief. Ulquiorra only responded by holding out the pendant to let it gleam in the light.

"I guess they're pretty jumpy about the situation, too." He explained, meekly trying to defend the unit. "But, I'm sure not all of them are like that. Most Reapers are pretty friendly."

"That explains your heartwarming greeting to us on the first day."

Even though Ulquiorra hadn't meant for the words to be taken seriously, a shadow of guilt crossed the teen's troubled expression.

"Yeah." He breathed out. "I was paranoid, too. Sorry about that."

The rough, mature voice that Ulquiorra was so used to hearing had dwindled down something childishly meek, similar to Nel, and whenever she felt guilty over something silly. Still, he was curious as to what else would tumble out of the redheaded teen's mouth.

"I'll admit, the first thing I thought about when I head you guys were back, was the threat of another war. When I heard you guys were within our custody, the first thing I feared was retaliation. Then I saw you guys in Mayuri's labs..."

After so much time, Ulquiorra still winced at the memory of that laboratory.

"I should have realized then just how unjust the Soul Society was being about it, but it didn't occur to me. Even afterwards, I just didn't want to trust any of you. I was so prepared to hate all of you...I was too scared to let go of that hatred in fear of being betrayed. I was wrong to just assume like that." He finally seemed to conclude this purging on his part. The whole time Ulquiorra's eyes never left him and his sad expression.

"I'm sorry for that." Ichigo said, adding so much finality and weight to the words that it was impossible to denounce them as insincere. The despondency was still present around him, but Ulquiorra noticed him taking a long breath, and looking relieved, as if he'd been wanting to get that off of his chest for a while.

Ulquiorra relaxed against the wall again, feeling the unknown urge to watch the sunlight stream over the city view. The way its bright flare illuminated every corner of the land to chase away any darkness was something he was always captivated by. Even now in the weak shade of the belfry, as he sat with a man with whom he shared nothing but a dark past with, the gentle sun from above watched over them without any clouds to obscure its warm brilliance.

Gingerly, Ulquiorra held out his hand from the shade to halfway meet the sunlight. His pale hand looked the same as ever, but the light always warmed him.

And he had been cold for so long.

"You're just like her." He whispered gently as a quiet breeze swam by. Ichigo turned his head to meet with earnest emerald eyes.

"You mean...Orihime?"

Ulquiorra nodded his head. "Who else?"

"If you called her by her name, I wouldn't be stuck playing the pronoun game." Ichigo scolded.

Ulquiorra half-heartedly shrugged. "I'll take that step when I reach that part of the bridge."

"Whatever." Ichigo rolled his eyes. "But how am I anything like her?"

"You're too compassionate. Always apologizing for things when it's not needed." He said a little dreamily, faltering out of the impassivity for only a fractional sliver of time. "And doing it so genuinely."

"Well..." The boy followed Ulquiorra's gaze out to the city. "That's 'cause I'm genuinely sorry. Remember 'common human decency'?"

"It's really not that common." Ulquiorra answered quietly. "Not many on your side regret their actions towards us. Just because you didn't, that doesn't criminalize you. It's a normal reaction."

Truthfully, he had just been stating as it was; bluntly, uncaringly, and unabashedly. Yet, his words seemed to comfort the discomfited Reaper next to him. Ulquiorra watched the melancholic glimmer in the amber of his eyes evanesce into a warm glow, like he was at peace.

"I see." He murmured as he looked back at the view.

"Thanks, Ulquiorra."

"And giving gratitude away so easily, too."

"Yoooo!"

The both of them didn't need to turn their heads to know the boy Keigo's arms were flung happily over their shoulders.

"What kind of cool stuff are you two broody bros so chit-chatty about? And how come none of us are in on it, too?!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend's persistence. "It's nothing you'd be interested in, Keigo."

"Aww don't shut me out, dude!" Keigo cried. He turned to Ulquiorra with a hopeful expression. "Senpai, what kinda wisdom were you sharing with our unfortunately ginger-headed friend?"

"What was that?" Ichigo grabbed him in a less than friendly headlock. "Ginger-headed?"

"He's not wrong!" Mizuiro called from the other side of the belfry.

"So spill it Ul-senpai..." The brown-haired teen choked out. "What were you guys talkin' about?

Ulquiorra flicked his eyes back between the two teenagers before offhandedly combing back a few dark bangs.

"Girls."

"What?" Ichigo looked up with an incredulous stare. For that distracted moment, Keigo slipped free and grinned widely

"Oh really! My favorite subject! You interested in any girls here in Japan? Actually, I've caught you starin' at Orihime in our class more than once!"

_You and everyone else..._

"Soooo? You interested in her? I can't blame you, man. She's a total-bfgeugh!"

"Shut up, Keigo." Ichigo elbowed the side of his head.

"What man? She's hot. Can you disagree?"

"Well, no..." Ichigo replied, scratching his head awkwardly. "But she's our friend. It's weird."

"Oh please, you prude." Keigo rolled his eyes. "You can agree with me, right senpai?"

Ulquiorra blinked at the question directed at him. His eyes momentarily flicked to an annoyed, but curious-looking Ichigo. He had plenty of responses, but shrugged half-heartedly, and settled for one.

"She's very pretty." He murmured with the wind.

"See!" Keigo elbowed a surprised looking Ichigo. "How can you be so modest when you've been spending nearly all of lunch talking about chicks?"

"All of lunch?" Ulquiorra asked, sounding alerted. Without hesitance, he took out his phone to check the time. Only thirteen minutes left until the bell rang.

His eyebrows knit in confusion, shock, and disbelief at the numbers spelled out on the glass screen. Had he really killed a whole hour just talking with someone? And a Soul Reaper nonetheless...

He sighed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to class..."

"Aww, you have to?" Keigo whined.

Ulquiorra looked back at the group of teenage boys (the others had joined the other side of the rooftops at the sound of Keigo's struggle in Ichigo's steel grasp).

"I'll see you all in class tomorrow." He concluded dispassionately. Before he turned around, Ichigo's voice called out to him.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Was that (*insert random band*) on your phone screen?"

Ulquiorra held up his cell to show the album cover that he had saved as his background.

"It is. Why...?"

"You listen to them?"

"I've...recently become interested in them. Why do you ask?"

"Well...I like that band, too."

* * *

Twelve minutes wasn't bad time.

If he rushed, Ulquiorra could probably get textbook delivery done in five. As he made his way back to the classroom, words and reactions from just a few moments ago were replaying in his head like a fixed cinematic. He certainly hadn't meant to stay so long with the students on the roof, but the time slipped away so easily. How odd that talking with his former enemy about relatively everything made Ulquiorra forget...everything.

It was sort of remedial, being able to forget his troubles for just a few small moments. It wasn't like how he seemed to be in a daze when he talked to Ori...er...the woman, but something different. Even Ichigo seemed to find peace in just talking with Ulquiorra, and speaking his mind. It seems that they both did something for each other. A Soul Reaper and a hollow.

_That's a new one. _

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly slammed into Starrk as he rounded an abrupt corner.

"Hey, Freight Train." Starrk greeted lackadaisically. "Don't you look like the busy man?"

"Don't I always?" Ulquiorra threw back.

"What took so long with the boys?" He inquired languidly.

Ulquiorra shrugged the matter off. "I lost track of time."

"How irresponsible." Starrk arched a brow in mock-astonishment. Ulquiorra elbowed his ribs.

"I'll finish up now." He declared plainly.

"Even if that _were_ physically possible with the bell time," Starrk began as he rolled his eyes. "You're outta luck. Halibel just called. The Reapers want us to hit the streets the moment the period starts."

Ulquiorra pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Just what he wanted to avoid. What was he thinking wasting so much time?

He sighed, but didn't necessarily regret his misuse of time.

"Whatever." He muttered.

"The funny thing is..." Starrk ran a hand through his wavy mocha hair, looking perplexed about something.

"What?" Ulquiorra asked as the turned another corner. Yet again, he was caught off gaurd and bumped into something short and female-shaped.

"Hey, watch it."

He was met with a head of long dark hair, dark eyes, and darkly pretty features.

"Excuse me...Tatsuki, right?" He gestured to the tomboyish girl.

"Huh. So you actually know my name." The girl crossed her arms and eyed him like a hawk.

"That's my job." He replied impassively.

"Actually, your job for today included delivering history textbooks to lazy-ass teachers who can't be bothered to get 'em themselves." She declared unabashedly.

Something about the tone of her voice was familiar to him: straightforward, discourteous, and with enough bold attitude to slightly annoy him. Who else did he know who was like that? Still, he recognized her as a certain grey-eyed girl's best friend.

"It was." Ulquiorra answered curtly. "May I ask how you know that?"

"You're answer's standing to your right like a wooden post." She said, flipping a wave of dark hair.

Ulquiorra turned his head to the Espadas Primera wooden post with a look that demanded an explanation. Before Starrk could say anything, another familiarly cheerful voice sounded from across the hall.

"All finished Tatsuki!"

Three pairs of eyes watched as the smiling copper-haired girl rushed over to meet them. When her eyes fell on Ulquiorra, the smile slightly faltered and she skidded to a stop in front of the three of them.

"Oh, hi." She said with a meek upturn of her lips.

"Did the last sensei get her books?" Tatsuki asked, making sure to shoot Ulquiorra a knowing look.

"Yeah, she did." The girl confirmed happily.

Ulquiorra flicked his eyes to Starrk, but the Primera Espada could only sigh as the scene unfolded before him.

"And it took us _all_ of lunch." Tatsuki crossed her limber arms in the direction of her sheepish friend.

"I told you I could try doing it myself." She insisted with a slight pout.

"And let you carry heavy boxes without me? What kind of friend would I be then?"

Impatient, Ulquiorra rapped his fingers on the wall loudly to get their attention.

"What's the meaning of this, woman?" He asked in a serious voice.

"She has a damn name." Tatsuki openly glared at him.

"Calm down both of you." The girl said in a pacifying voice. She turned to Ulquiorra with a sheepish expression. "After you left class, I asked Starrk if I could help out with any errands you had left. I figured you'd be gone long, considering Keigo's persistence and all..."

Ulquiorra shot another empty look at Starrk who was busy playing with a few strands of hair. The sleepy-eyed Espada yawned before returning Ulquiorra's gaze.

"She's the persistent one." He said with a shrug. "Absolutely insisted on helping out. It would've been useless to refuse."

"Like I said." Tatsuki nudged her blushing friend's shoulder. "You're too generous for your own good."

_Indeed. _Ulquiorra thought in a agreement.

"You know, we pretty much wasted our lunch to help." Tatsuki pointed out dauntlessly. "I believe a thanks is due?"

"Tatsuki." The girl chided with another pout.

"Dude, it's two simple words." The tomboy put her hands on her hips. "Hello in there? Do I need to draw you a picture?"

_Who do you remind me of?_

Ulquiorra only blinked a few times before sighing.

Daringly, he tried for a brief glance into those shining grey eyes without becoming totally absorbed into them. Attempt unsuccessful. She shifted her large silver gaze to stare more directly into his jade one. He could feel himself lost in the grey rain clouds again.

"You didn't have to do that." He said in a drained voice, feeling his shoulders lower in relief of having no more tasks, but also in just being in her calming presence.

With an endearingly shy smile, she shrugged lightheartedly.

"I didn't _have_ to. I just wanted to."

How could she look so honest all the time? Ulquiorra could barely hear Starrk tell him that he had no more than five minutes to meet him in the parking lot, or Tatsuki warily excuse herself and tell her friend that she would meet her in art class; their voices were lost and muffled as if he were submerged underwater, the way he always felt when he was alone with her.

And here they were again. Alone.

Ulquiorra was at a loss for words, except for two.

"Thank you." He said more gently than he ever would to anyone else. She exchanged his gratitude for a scarlet blush.

"It's n-nothing that great." She insisted modestly. "R-really, i-it's okay. You don't need to thank me."

"You couldn't seriously have done all that work and call it nothing." He evenly chided her. "At least let me repay you somehow. I can't stand feeling indebted."

He had no idea how or why his stone cold words prompted her to reach out to smooth his dark hair back from his sleepy eyes, but he didn't object; not even when she kept her soft fingertips against the surface of his cheekbones just under his eyes.

"You're never indebted." She whispered gingerly. Her gorgeous voice, gorgeous expression, and gorgeous eyes held too much meaning to be untrue. Before he knew it, Ulquiorra found himself holding the hand at his cheek in his own pale one.

"Are you okay?" She asked in a soft whisper.

"I'm always okay."

"Then that's all I need for repayment."

She couldn't be serious.

"That's all?"

It was such a brief moment, but he wished it was a little longer so he could treasure the feeling. The feeling of her body connected with his own; her arms wrapped securely around his neck; her head laying just to next to his; her warm breath against his neck; and her soft eyelashes brushed against his cheek.

"Of course. Is that okay?" She asked gently, her plush lips separated from his rapid pulse by just a faint breath.

He breathed out a calm, "Okay", before tentatively bringing his own arm around her fragile body, to assure that this feeling would last, and that she wouldn't let go. He didn't want to let her go.

"When you get home tonight," She wound her arms tighter around him. "Get some sleep. Dark circles don't go with teal lines."

He temperately nodded his head, somewhat distracted by the vibration of her pulse so close to his own. He had become so used to its serene lullaby that he nearly fell asleep in her arms.

He really didn't want to let her go.

But he had to. Before they separated, he remembered something obscure, but undeniably significant. Something he had always walked around but never confronted at face value. Something that he didn't feel like delaying any longer.

Something he wanted no one but her to hear from him, so he whispered the delicate sentiment in her ear.

Just then the school bell rang to separate them again, and to remind Ulquiorra that he was out of time. He had no time to linger on her wide eyes, gaping lips, or blushing face.

With that, he walked off to round the corner, roughly grab Starrk, who had been indiscreetly skulking on the other side of the corner of the wall, and drag him by his collar to their car in the parking lot.

"What-?" He began, but abruptly stopped as Ulquiorra wordlessly drew Murciélago to let it glare threateningly in the light.

"Fine." He grumbled as he slouched in the passenger's seat. Ulquiorra flipped the bangs out of his eyes before starting the ignition and driving off to join their siblings at patrol. All the silent while, the last words he spoke echoed in his head.

_Thank you...Orihime._

* * *

**A/N: Lemme know what you think in the reviews, especially in regard to Nnoi-Nn...er...Nnoitra's perspective. Hopefully you enjoyed the bonding and bickering in this chapter. It was fun to write**

**I have no idea what kinda music Ulquiorra would listen to. My thoughts always go to metal...alternative metal? Or any Japanese bands? Save me readers...**

**Also, I realize that last chapter wasn't so engaging, but I would really appreciate more thoughts on Murciélago's personality, and more importantly, gender. I can't make up my mind! I once again apologize for the late update, but next chapter is already under construction. Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. Points for subtle tundere? (It's sweet, lol)**


	12. Chapter 12: Effusion

The Hollow and The Halcyon

Chapter 12: Catharsis

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for such a long wait. Hopefully this long-ass chapter will make up for it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach the anime or the manga. **

* * *

Waves of fatigue swept over him as he painstakingly, step-by-agonizing step, carried himself to his floor in the gargantuan apartment complex. Seeing as there was no one in his immediate vicinity, he allowed a faint yawn to escape his parted lips. Such an action would have been unsightly if dawned on his flawless features, but it couldn't be helped. He had heard several unamusing jokes about the dreadful graveyard shift, yet Szayel Aporro Granz had never exhausted himself to the point of near collapse in his laboratory.

The last thing he could have possibly envisioned through his superior frame of mind was finding himself both mentally and physically enfeebled in the labs of his enemies: the Soul Reapers. Especially that wretched Captain of Squad Twelve. He could barely utter that madman's name without feeling sickness sprout like poison from within him.

He reached the Espada's not so humble abode, ethereally quiet for once in the tranquil night, with the aim of retiring to his room for much needed and much desired rest; that sentiment was shattered as the door was opened before his fingers grazed the cold doorknob.

Behind the white door that Szayel had crafted so elegantly with his own penchant for floral design, was the self-proclaimed Espada King himself. Despite his languor, Szayel managed a dry grin up at the elderly Arrancar.

"Good evening. Shouldn't you be resting, Grandfather dear?"

Baraggan grunted harshly before moving aside to let Szayel slip through the doorway to enter Casa Espada's masterfully adorned living room.

"I'm assuming the rest have been confined to their rooms?" Szayel asked, maintaining artificial cordiality.

"Yes." The eldest Espada answered gruffly, as he settled in his throne-like lazy chair. "There are leftovers from dinner in the refrigerator. Before you make a snide remark, Yammy's cooking was actually bearable."

"Hmm..." Szayel mused, but ultimately dismissed the notion.

"While that sounds like an adventure, I'd rather save myself any gastrointestinal trauma, and call it a night like everyone else." He concluded, turning on his heel.

"Not before you report to me." Baraggan said sternly.

Oozing with dissatisfaction, Szayel pivoted back to face his glaring elder.

"Always so demanding." He lamented, with one of his signature sighs.

"What news do you have?" The King asked remorselessly.

Szayel recalled his visit to the Soul Society Research Division with an unpromising grimace gracing his delicate features.

"The usual story. They refuse to provide me with actual access to the experimental procedures, and the data they've presented seems intentionally vague." He explained while adjusting his glasses.

"Does it seem like they're making a valid effort for our zanpakuto?" Baraggan asked.

"In a sense." Szayel answered dimly. "Currently, they are modifying the sword release of a recently captured Arrancar subject, though the results haven't been very fruitful. They won't allow me to assess the cause of the data, nor will they allow me to be in close contact with the subject."

The elder Arrancar allowed a single sigh to escape his frowning lips.

"The paranoid bastards."

Szayel adjusted his glasses in agreement. The true experimentation in the laboratories was kept hidden from him. Sad to say that the Soul Society's security was exceptionally high caliber, and difficult to surreptitiously breach without shedding the blood of their watchmen. Even if Szayel managed to sneak his way to that Captain's main office where all the documents were held, that created lieutenant of his was always so dutifully on gaurd. At any moment Szayel's attention settled on the document storge, her vapid gaze accosted him and gave more than enough incentive to turn away.

"It's been a while since I've had actual access to lab equipment and supplies, so I have no way to conduct my own independent research." Szayel reluctantly admitted. "It had actually been one of my past plans to compare the zanpakutos granted to us by the Hogyoku, to those of the Soul Reapers."

"There's no way for you to take a Reaper's shikai to analyze without being condemned for theft." Baraggan said quietly, scratching his square jaw in contemplation. "Or worse, for suspicion of a retaliation."

"They wouldn't hesitate to make a rash judgment..." Szayel murmured, holding the defined tip of his sharp chin. "Even though the they're guilty of that exact crime themselves. Taking our zanpakutos for their research."

His voice trailed off as memories from the dark laboratory flashed before their lusterless gazes. Time could not vanquish the permanent trauma left behind by the Soul Society's torment. Even if the scars, bruises, and injuries healed, the haunting thoughts and sensations they had evoked crept upon their skin like the icy breath of a vengeful ghost. Every Espada still quivered in remembrance of the lab cages, the collars, the brutal experiments, and those horrible wrist bands still locked above their trembling hands like prison shackles.

After a brief silence, the glimmer of penitence in Baraggan's stubborn eyes dried into a desert of ash.

"It seems like a scientific law." He grumbled. "The Arrancarification creates the Soul Reaper and Hollow hybrid with Reaper-like powers, but our pseudo zanpakuto have no capability of purifying hollows. Once the Hogyoku's work has been done, it's irreversible."

"Or so we think." Szayel corrected. "Without further experimentation, we cannot know the full extent of that little orb's power. Not like Aizen did. I believe that's what they fear the most. If we did unlock the potential of the Hogyoku, it would be further guarded from our clutches."

"Just another matter they're wary to share with us." Baraggan growled, roughly clenching his fist. "But there's no one else to rely on for research on this issue."

"I haven't had any luck trying to contact Kisuke Urahara for his explanation of the zanpakuto mechanics or the Hogyoku." Szayel furrowed his brows in frustration.

"What role does he play in this research study?" Baraggan inquired gruffly.

"He's at the heart of it all." Szayel said with a grim smile. "The mad doctor responsible for our current condition with his revolutionary invention: the Hogyoku. Well, after our dear Lord Aizen's failed attempt."

"And how has he partaken in the experiment?"

"His involvement in the matter is apparently a sensitive one, but his knowledge of the Hollowfication and Arrancarification is more vast than any scientist in the research department. Although, Squad Twelve's Captain is determined to pull through with his own discoveries about the little device."

"His standings towards us may follow a similar route with those Reapers, but he too has a strained relationship with them." Baraggan added. "Due to his involvement with the Vizards."

"Indeed, but it seems they don't trust us to have any contact with him alone." Szayel said, flipping back a few smooth strands of pink hair. "Their guards have accompanied me everytime to his shop on every occasion, even when I went with Grimmjow to have his gigai fixed."

Likewise to their capture, the memory of their Sexta Espada's plight with the Reapers not long ago, was still fresh. The damage to his body was severe, more so than any one had thought, but unsurprising given everyone's desperate attempts to subdue the raging Espada. Nnoitra's and Neliel's recent punishment from the black soul bands was another grim reminder not to disobey orders. However carefree he had made himself seem to be this afternoon, even Szayel felt a pang of panic constrict him when his two comrades unintentionally killed their targets, and suffered their punishment.

"Any information on these soul bands?" Baraggan asked in a way that seemed to seek no answer.

Szayel shook his head in accordance with Baraggan's seemingly hopeless sentiment.

"There's no way to remove them without confronting Urahara, and I'm sure he's banned from giving any information to us. I have learned that the wristbands don't deliver high voltage shocks, but rather inject a small dosage of poison into the bloodstream. The poison was specially created by the Captain of Squad Twelve. According to him, there is no immunity vaccine or a cure for the effects, except for time to flush it out of the system. Extremely large doses can be fatal."

"The lethal shock." Baraggan whispered in a voice quieter than death.

Szayel nodded slowly. "No cure, but that's only backed by mere words. I have yet to study the substance myself."

_If only I could get a sample of that poison. The only way would be to extract a dosage from an activated soul band, but that would risk another injection into an Espada. None of them would be willing to oblige..._

Szayel twirled thin strands of hair around his index finger. The serpentine orientation of pink around his finger brought his eyes to the arrantly black slip of fabric encircling his thin wrist.

The symbol of his imprisonment.

Through some unexplainable perspective, it nearly humored him that the Soul Reapers went to such desperate lengths to ensure subordination from the Espada. While the hatred it created within him festered with the lethal malignancy of a virus, the whole situation was absurdly ironic.

How had the endless road of time for the Espada come to a junction where the deathless and heartless warriors had fallen from their position of dominance, to be put under submission by their spiritually inverted enemies?

The divinely magnanimous Soul Reapers were painted in the image of saviors for the lost souls of the dead. Caring, compassionate, and chivalrous to guide the decadent soul to salvation... or damning, draconian, and depriving to punish the unholy creature fostered under the dark hand of sin. Their blessed shikai were claimed to be purifying; capable of no wrongdoing lest the master be corrupt and unfit to wield it.

The Soul Reapers claimed sainthood...

What entices a saint to destroy? To deprive? To dismay? To degrade? To deprave? To devastate?

What was the need for such torturous treatment?

Was it out of fear of another unavoidable battle?

Was it out of the need to establish authority?

Was it out of the desire to exude dominance?

Was it out of a shamefully seductive sadism to exact violent vengeance upon the captured enemy?

So many questions he couldn't help but ponder over. After all, he was a scientist; it was in his nature to seek clarity and truth to explain abstruse phenomenon.

He was also a warrior; it was his desire to understand the truth of the humiliation inflicted upon him and his comrades, and to claim retribution for their honor.

To be lethally tazed into submission was treatment suited for taming animals. The thought inspired spiteful discontent in the pit of Szayel's being, but there was nothing he, nor any of his fellow Espada could do about the black bands permanently attached to their gigais. These damn devices branded them like worthless beasts, debased them to nothing but test subjects, and threatened them with swift death each out of turn 'crime' they committed against their enemy's standards.

Ah...but it was as humorous as it was hateful.

It was so ironic in his case that Szayel wanted to laugh. This was what had become of the great scientist of Hueco Mundo? The doctor so engulfed in his own madness and his own narcissism, and so heartless as to devalue any life for the purpose of his intellectual gain...

...was now the tortured lab rat?

He forgot how cruel irony was, but he loved how its exquisite madness could fracture the breakable minds of humans and even hollows. The way insanity ferociously clutched the fragile health of mind made it more powerful than any weapon, disease, or spell. Sentient beings had nothing to fear more than the debasement of their minds. From the lightless confines of the conscious, subconscious, and unconscious, one could all to easily plummet into the smiling crevice of psychopathy.

The utter discord of this conflict infuriated him as much as it filled him with a deranged euphoria that he wished to unleash with cackles of maddened glee to ring out in the dead night...

...but he settled for a dark smirk instead.

"And that's that, dear Grandfather." Szayel concluded, adjusting the thin frame of his glasses. "Satisfied?"

Baraggan said nothing, but his glare had not wavered.

"Get some sleep, sire." Szayel drawled, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "A King needs his rest, too."

With that, Baraggan lifted himself from his chair, but made no move towards his room.

"A King cannot rest while his subjects are threatened."

Szayel lifted his golden eyes to find steadfast resolution in the ashen ones across from him. He had seen such an ardent light in the Segunda Espada's glare any time he defended his title, but the miniscule light in those dead eyes seemed too far reaching to shine for only one person.

"I'll be excused from patrol tomorrow on account of a meeting that has been scheduled between me and the Head Captain." The elder Espada informed.

"Oh?" Szayel inquired with a raised brow. "For the usual list of grievances?"

Baraggan shook his head. "I've been assessing our balanced sides for quite some time, but I've decided to take a further step in this conflict, by evaluating their leader's take on the issue. If they think they can place a psychological trap on my comrades, then I will enfeeble their leader with his own dread."

"How callous. And all for the sake of your underlings? I didn't expect you to be such a benevolent ruler." Szayel mused with a dry grin. "Although, that kind of corrupt chivalry may backfire on you."

"Don't mistake my resolve for kindness." Baraggan warned. "As a ruler, it is my prerogative to ensure the survival of my comrades, as well as it is to make the other side know our power."

The grin disappeared as Szayel listened more intently to the Segunda's words.

"The Soul Reapers have the upper hand in the event of a battle, but they won't allow such a scenario to be reached." He said with enough impudence to make his words seem like law. "They fear a future without us."

Those scarred eyes went darker than the night beyond them.

"It is in a ruler's justified right to spread fear. I plan to find out just what exactly agonizes Head Captain Yamamoto, and use that fear to our advantage."

"You sound so sure of yourself." Szayel said with intrigue pulling the corners of his lips into a smooth smile. "How can you be sure that the Head Captain fears anything?"

"Humans, Soul Reapers, Hollows, Demons, or Ghosts." He said darkly. "No one is safe from fear. It cannot be escaped in life, in time, or in death."

Szayel never took the liberty to peer into the darkness of Hueco Mundo's self-proclaimed King, and now he could see why. The old hollow wore a countenance more formidable than the mask of death itself. The frigid air was fatalistic around the spectral old man, but Szayel could barely contain his demented elation at the severity of the Segunda's expression.

With a resolve as unwavering as his, there was bound to be enthralling discord.

"Don't overestimate yourself, old man." He lilted warningly, successfully eclipsing any excitement in his voice. "An aged horse won't get back up once it's fallen down."

A thrilling shudder passed through him when those gruesome eyes, sharp enough to draw glittering lines of crimson blood down his body, gravitated over to him.

"A horse may fall, but the king will rise against all."

* * *

Moonlight washed through the thin white fabric of her curtains, cutting through the thick blanket of darkness that enveloped her small room. Orihime sat curled up on her soft bed, with her body tangled in a mess of sheets and school papers that she had been working on, and her attention drawn to the magnetic pull of the full moon. It's pale luminescence brought a lustrous sheen to her diamond eyes, similar to the grinning crescent of Hueco Mundo that guarded her from above her chamber in Las Noches.

From the deepest parts of her mind, beneath the cold bedrock of unwanted and unappreciated memories, images seen, sounds heard, feelings felt, and words spoken were seeping out into the active conscious of her everyday bubbly mentality. Twice today in school, she had been called out on for daydreaming. The worried looks that Tatsuki had been sending her made her feel guilty, but she couldn't ponder over that guilt.

Her bedeviled thoughts simply would not let her.

Why was she so engrossed with memories of that traumatic experience? From the melancholic scenery to the utter dread and terror she had felt throughout her stay, there wasn't much to look happily back on. Such a horrible time should be repressed within the mind as a defensive mechanism.

Restless, Orihime slid her legs off of her bed to sit upright, and brought her eyes to the wall just aside her. Like the cadaverous visage of the pale moon glaring down at her, the wall was a colorless blank slate. She smoothed the messy soft sheets on her bed before she tentatively stood to face the wall. Beyond it's solid foundation, were the unrushed, controlled, pulsating waves of a familiar spiritual pressure. From the slow and sound cadence of the spiritual waves, she could tell the person to whom this spiritual pressure belonged to was asleep.

If only she could follow suit.

* * *

_"When you get home tonight, get some sleep."_

Even if he had decided not to heed her words, it would have been physcially impossible to stay conscious any longer after the patrol.

_Hollows were roaming all around him, swarming the city in an untamed, discordant mass. Their chalky masks reflected the warm light of the sunset, bringing a ghostly glare to their grisly features. So many gleaming faces surrounded him in the fading crimson light, that it was hard to keep track of them; even harder to do so with his restricted capabilities at the moment. _

_He was breathing heavily, clutching a nearly dislocated shoulder, and unable to tell whether the dampness running down his pale face was perspiration or blood. He was overwhelmed; exhausted; alert; and absolutely teetering on the adrenalizing verge of collapse or exhilaration. He felt everything at this moment; everything was moving; everything was active with vivacity in him. _

_Every animal knew this feeling. It was difficult to remain so calm in the face of utter danger, knowing that everything was against you, and that you had nothing to save yourself but your own limited power. _

_Difficult...but the rush of life for that brief fraction of time was unmatched by any other feeling. _

_Fifty-three seconds. _

_In fifty-three chaotically accelerated seconds, Murciélago's blade glistened with the dark blood of thirty-five fallen hollows, Menos, and whatever else lay broken and bleeding at Ulquiorra's feet. Without the assistance of his power, it was all so physical: running, dodging, jumping, slashing, and all else..._

_Countless Reapers dropped down to finish off his fallen adversaries, some too shellshocked to comprehend what had just happened. _

_He brought his numb fingers to the sweaty and blood drenched bangs at his forehead, breathing laboriously as he held his throbbing head. __He forgot how exhausting it all was, but also so empowering. Behind the unbreakable mask of indifference, a separate dimension of him was inebriated by his own bloodlust. _

_It was a guilty pleasure that he would never admit to._

_The rushing blood in his veins eventually calmed down to its normal, steady flow, just as the rest of his body and mind reconnected to the easy pace of a danger-free reality. Like steam arising from after an eruption, the high dissipated; evaporated; faded like the slit of titian light at the darkening horizon. _

_His adrenaline rush was shot, making his body far too heavy to carry. Walking over to the closest solid wall, Ulquiorra fell against the rigid bricks and slid down to the floor. Patrol was over, at the very least. Just as his regular calm settled over him, Ulquiorra's eye caught light of the pendant glinting in the remaining ruby red light. Instinct coaxed him to rip the damn thing off, but he knew better than to perform an act of disobedience in the wake of the glaring Reaper unit. _

_Before he closed his eyes, he could vaguely feel his comrades alerted rieatsus, and hear their rushed footsteps approach him in a hurry. Within seconds, a set of nimble arms latched around him, tight enough to snap a bone. _

_"You can't fight so hard with that necklace on, dummy! Don't worry me like that!" _

_"You're crushing me, Nel..." _

_He heard controlled footsteps approach behind her. _

_"Can you walk?" Starrk asked softly, as he crouched down to meet his exhausted brother's lusterless green eyes. As Ulquiorra nodded, an oddly quiet Yammy also stepped forward to peer down at him. _

_"Any injuries?" _

_He was about to shake his head, but a sharp pain interrupted him from his side. Nel released her strong hold to stare down at him worriedly. With a slight grimace painted on his expressionless face, he clutched his shoulder..._

_...and popped it back in place. _

_Every battle-hardened, unapprehensive Espada winced. _

Ulquiorra's eyes fluttered open as the memory faded back into the dark space of his mind. The warmth that flooded into his body upon reconnecting to reality reminded him that he was outside, perched on the glossy black hood of his car, tiredly waiting for Starrk to get ready for their morning ride to Karakura High.

As loud as the symphonic storm of sound from drums, basses, and guitars rang in his ears, his thoughts and memories were easily reached without obstruction. He brought his fingers to the thin black wire connected to his cell phone and tugged the headphones out of his ears. The riotous melody ironically served more as a narcotic rather than a stimulant. It put him at peace, and gave him the incentive to freely ruminate about whatever came to mind. It wasn't often that he could so easily escape a world that demanded his constant alert attention, but this music composed by human musical groups was perfectly distracting.

As he stretched out his arm, he nearly winced at the aching in his muscles, still sore from being overtaxed without his rieatsu to manage his stamina. The pain hadn't been so daunting last night, but that could be attributed to the fighter's high he had experienced. How long had it been since he felt this physically afflicted?

Inevitably, his eyes dropped down to the silver necklace latched onto the chalky skin of his exposed collarbone, darkly framed by the black jacket collar that hung loosely around his neck. It certainly wasn't as hazardous as the shocks from the dark soul bands, but the seal on the ghostly pendant had proven to be quite a hindrance in his daily routine. It wasn't that he was any less adept at working or fighting, but there was far less energy for him to expend.

Essentially, he just had to work a bit harder.

Generally, his ability to succeed through even the most harrowing of tasks was effortless. It wasn't often that he had to truly push himself to complete a job.

One might find his handicap to be burdensome, but after years of being able to achieve everything so easily, a little struggle wasn't unwelcome. Being able to succeed with his own physical and mental capability gave Ulquiorra an odd sense of triumph. The exhaustion was grueling, but he wasn't opposed to the challenge that the Soul Reapers placed on him.

_This desire to prosper and succeed...what is it exaclty? Competitiveness? No. Work ethic? Maybe...? A need for dominance? That sounds barbaric..._

He still wasn't quite as adept as others at labeling the new sensations pooling just beyond the locked doors of this new...'heart' of his (he wasn't all that comfortable with the term either). His inability to perceive his own turmoils made Ulquiorra wonder just how little he knew about himself. Each day, he found distinctive characteristics about himself that he had never paid mind to before.

Was he always so pensive?

Did he always play with his hair when he was thinking?

Did he always crack his knuckles when he felt troubled?

Had he always been so stubborn?

Had he always been so caffeine dependent?

Had he always liked the color gray?

He hadn't ever given any consideration to what he was like as a person. Hollows didn't tend to think much about their inner being; there wasn't much there to begin with. Yet, as he experienced more with this 'heart', it seemed as though there was more to himself that he, not even Murciélago, knew of.

It felt like he was finding himself in a new light after being hidden in darkness.

Ulquiorra leaned a bit further back on the hood of his car, slipping out his cell phone to find that Starrk had a max of ten minutes to rush down to the parking lot. Sighing again, Ulquiorra quelled his impatience by listening to a few more songs. Just as the thrash metal brought his mind to his rush on the battlefield, the smoother melody of what he assumed was a bittersweet love song by a different band, created fleeting images of his auburn-haired neighbor.

She was probably already on her way to school, merrily enjoying every moment of her life with that ever persistent smile, radiating warmth for anyone who came her way. Even for a cold hollow.

As the gentle hymn of the guitar streamed within Ulquiorra's mind, everything about her was brought to mind.

How was it so easy for her to face life with such a happy mask painted on, when she no doubt had suffered through drawbacks in her short life? It seemed effortless for humans to forget pain and keep moving along with the light of time.

That must not be the case for the dead.

There was no moving on from the sufferings faced in life and after it as well.

Were hollows fixated in a realm of nothingness?

Was that why there was nothing to save them from pain?

Was that why there was no reason for them to get to know themselves?

Ulquiorra found himself nodding along, not only to the rhythm of the melody, but also to his own deep inquiry. After all, any attempt to escape the melancholy would have been futile and ultimately pointless. There was no where to keep moving...

That all changed when a gentle light led him astray; guided him out of the cold world he had been in for so long; embraced him in a new world where, for once, he felt as though he was moving towards something.

Was she his light?

The chorus of the singer's soft ballad was interrupted by the guttural purr of an engine. A blur of black flashed in the corner of his eye, to which Ulquiorra turned and found a black motorcycle and it's blue-haired rider present in the parking lot. Grimmjow slid up his dark sunglasses to meet Ulquiorra's torpid gaze.

"Nice scar." He grinned wickedly.

Instinctively, Ulquiorra brought pale fingers up to the mark just beneath his eye, inflicted by a rampaging Adjuchas. It wasn't particularly eye-catching, but it couldn't be completely hidden by the shortened locks of his dark hair.

"That little thing's really doin' a number on you, huh?" He inquired with mock-concern flicking his eyes to the silver necklace. Ulquiorra wished he had worn something more conservative than just a thin gray and black tank top that Nel had bought him, but he couldn't be bothered to pointlessly defy his sister's pleas (especially since she's been in a bad mood since yesterday).

"Not particularly."

"Whatever. You and Starrk didn't take off yet?" He asked casually, mounting himself off of his glossy bike.

Ulquiorra shook his head while wrapping the headphones around his slim device and settling it in his pockets.

"He's just running a bit late."

"You two will be running for real if you don't make it out soon." Grimmjow informed with a callous smirk, adjusting the dark lens of the shades to settle atop his head. "Traffic's killer today."

His words echoed those of another redheaded human who had been on Ulquiorra's mind. Before he could make it to the concrete staircase to reach the first floor, Ulquiorra called out to him.

"Hold it. We have to discuss your parole."

An abrupt stop. Tensed shoulders. What he could have imagined was an annoyed eye roll. Grimmjow tilted his head back to meet his serious emerald eyes. The words that escaped his scowling lips were more infuriating than any profanity he could have barked out.

"I don't know what business it is of yours."

Despite the collected demeanor he kept, Ulquiorra could feel his fists clench tightly in his pockets.

"Any affair pertaining to the Espada is of my concern." He said coolly.

"Cause you're such a responsible little diplomat, aren't ya?" He sneered mockingly.

"It's come under my attention that you've been abandoning your partner out in the city." Ulquiorra continued, unfazed. "Is that true?"

The watery blue glare hardened into ice.

"How do you know that?"

"Answer my question."

"Answer mine."

Ulquiorra didn't remember when his feet had planted themselves on the hard concrete just in the wake of his glaring comrade. Both men were now upfront with each other in a not quite brotherly manner. Grimmjow's blazing eyes narrowed at him in contemptuous suspicion.

"Am I being spied on now?" He asked bitterly. Ulquiorra didn't blink.

"I've spoken with Kurosaki over the matter. It's your turn to testify." He replied with a politician's glare.

"So I'm on trial now?" Grimmjow arched a strictly angled brow. "And you actually spoke with that brat? He can't take my shit, so he bitches to you about it like you're some kind of fucking mediator?"

"If anything isn't right with the patrol, then he has the right to express his complaint." Ulquiorra answered. "And he isn't wrong. The rules are clear: you have to cooperate with him for it to be an actual partnership. That entails being within his vicinity."

"That's great." Grimmjow ran a hand through the ruffled strands of his electric blue hair, using the other to remove the dark shades from their spot. "Just fucking great. That spiky haired brat tattles to you just so you can take care of his problem. I hate that kind of cowardice."

"According to him, you're never around to for him to be upfront about the issue." Ulquiorra said in an all-business tone. "Why are you avoiding him?"

"Isn't it obvious, genius?" Grimmjow furrowed his brows in annoyance. "I can't stand that bastard, so I steer clear of him. The fuck does it matter so long as we get our job done? That's all the Soul Society wants."

Ulquiorra shut his eyes for a brief moment to take a calm breath. When they slid open again, he was prepared for Grimmjow's impatient glower.

"If you're attempting to avoid more conflict with him, then your way of handling the situation isn't very judicious." He stated factually. "The Soul Society expects joint cooperation to make sure fights like last time won't happen again. At least make it appear as though you're trying to get along."

"Are you actually buying that garbage they're tryin' to shove down our throats?" Grimmjow inquired with a severe scowl. "Cooperation? With a Soul Reaper? What a load of-"

"The point is," Ulquiorra interrupted. "You need to work with him regardless of whether or not you find the idea of collaboration unrealistic."

"So I have to play their little bullshit game to make it seem like they taught me a lesson?" He snapped. "You're asking me to kiss their asses just to give them the satisfaction of winning?"

"You can accept this alternative, or you return to house arrest and..."

His voice trailed off upon feeling the harshness of his words. He didn't need to finish that sentence for Grimmjow to place a protective hand over Pantera's gleaming hilt. Ulquiorra followed his line of vision, but pretended to not notice the slight shiver of that hand. Tense silence followed not long after Grimmjow let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm assuming this form of punishment is...preferable." Ulquiorra followed up with a borderline soft voice. When his eyes traveled up to his face, he saw that Grimmjow couldn't keep his eyes off of his sword. They stayed glued to the blue hilt, as if at any fleeting moment it would be ripped from his desperately tight grasp. Something alien was surging in those sapphire eyes, but it was closed off by a layer of black eyelashes.

"More so than yours." He returned sullenly, not even bothering to drop a hint of malice in his voice.

Gentle gusts of wind ran through his inky black hair, bringing the black waves up to melt in with the oceanic sky. The vacuous azure space fearlessly, fiercely, and freely extended so far and high above the world, like a king transcending above the lowest ranks to reach the precipice of power in the world. It invaded every inch of the world, unafraid to darken and bring tempest to reign unforgivingly on its enemy.

"Why are you avoiding him?" Ulquiorra repeated more intently.

Why wasn't that blazing turbulence right where it should be? Reflected in the sky blue eyes now closed off from him.

"He pisses me off." He droned almost robotically. "You've seen what happens when I get pissed off."

Ulquiorra slid his eyes to the unsuited despondency in that rough voice he knew so well. Grimmjow's eyes were open again, but still stuck on Pantera.

What was that look in his eye?

Why couldn't Ulquiorra find out what it was?

If he was opened to so many new things now, why couldn't he place this one expression for the sake of his comrade?

It was so unbefitting of his brother to look such a way, that it made Ulquiorra...

Upset? Anxious? Angry? Helpless? Hurt?

How could he figure out what was going on with Grimmjow if he had no idea what was inside of him?

What did that expression mean?

Why did it mean so much?

Why did not knowing make Ulquiorra feel so blind?

Why did his thoughts keep desperately reverting back to...to Orihime...whenever he was so consumed by his own turmoil, as if he wanted her to save him?

_"It almost sounds as if you're worried about him." _

His own words to the worried teen Reaper were echoing back to him in his head for an unknown reason.

Ulquiorra's hands tightened again in his pockets, though not out of vexation this time. "If there is anything troubling you on the patrol-"

"Troubling me?"

There was that roughly choleric voice. Ulquiorra looked up expectantly, bargaining for the impetuous azure to be glowering mercilessly down at him.

But no. It was only a mildly irritated glare.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He demanded.

Good question. Ulquiorra kept his expression dauntless, but something faltered within him.

"You've been behaving differently-"

"Oh, not this shit again." Grimmjow scowled in disgust, and turned on his heel.

"We're not done talking." Ulquiorra said more sharply than he had intended, watching his retreating form with a still glare.

"What's there to talk about?" Grimmjow yelled as he pivoted back to face him. "You already gave your damn warning. What the fuck else do you have to say?"

Ulquiorra parted his lips, but found that no words would come forth. What _was_ he supposed to say now? He had done what he needed to do, but it felt as though this moment was incomplete without something else that needed to be confronted.

"What about my behavior?" Grimmjow challenged, stalking forward menacingly. "Go on. Tell me. Did that Soul Reaper brat cry to you about that, too? Or are you using some 'wise' and 'all-seeing' intuition, like Baraggan?"

"This has nothing to do with either of them." Ulquiorra intoned gravely, finding that the both of them were in each other's faces again.

"Oh, but you're all the fucking same." Grimmjow glared down at him. "Watching me like hawks, bitching about everything I do, saying stuff about me like you know everything. If you do, then enlighten me. Tell me everything you think you know about what's going on with me."

All of his words were like knives stabbing remorselessly into him, but more so than anger, Ulquiorra felt...

He didn't know what he felt.

"What _is_ going on with you?"

His voice was more sincere than it had ever been when talking with his cantankerous brother. Ulquiorra looked into his eyes in hopes of finding some answer, but all that he could see was stubborn fury.

He didn't have time to look deeper before the scuffing sound of footsteps against concrete was accompanied by Starrk's leisurely spiritual pressure. As the Primera reached the parking lot, his foggy blue eyes absorbed the tension between his two brothers. His lips parted as if he would say something, but Grimmjow brushed past him with out so much as a glance or any gesture of acknowledgement. The scene closed with what sounded like wood splintering and concrete cracking from the heavy impact of a slammed door.

"Sorry I was late." He muttered as he approached Ulquiorra. "Took a little more energy than I thought to..._subdue_ Nnoitra and Nel."

Ulquiorra gave him an inquisitive look at the choice of words, but ultimately abandoned the thought and headed to the driver's seat of his car. As he started the ignition, he met Starrk's rapt gaze reflected in the illuminated windshield.

"Is he alright?"

The engine answered with a low purr, creating the only noise in the unerringly silent car. Ulquiorra shifted his eyes over to his own colorless expression, mimicked in the glass panes with a ghostly translucency. His green eyes were like the countless lost leaves swaying aimlessly in the air, drifting farther and farther away from the life-giving mother tree until lost in the stormy blue world of the sky.

Lost and unable to do anything to stop the storm.

His internal trepidation immediately enticed his mind to think of his smiling emotional sage for clarity, but she probably wouldn't understand their plight.

Would she?

Would she be able to see what he couldn't with that radiant light of hers?

"Ulquiorra?"

He snapped out of his momentary daze to meet Starrk's rainy eyes, brimming with concern.

"Are _you_ alright?"

He was left to answer the question with a noncommittal shrug. Just as he set the gears to drive, he took out his headphones, and cranked up the volume.

* * *

"Wow..."

Her eyes traced over each line, each curve, each shade, and whatever else embodied the lovely vision before her. Never before had she seen such a captivating array of shades of black, white, and a hauntingly familiar green that she had become accustomed to over the last few weeks. Throughout the day, the month, and all her life, she had seen a variety of entrancing art pieces, but the one cradled delicately in her arms emanated such feeling; so much that Tatsuki could only breath another...

"Wow..." She repeated in the same wonderstruck daze. Orihime was to her side underneath the tall tree just outside the back of the school. Despite her valiant efforts to hide it, her anxiety was evident like the shadows of leaves splayed on her strained, smiling face.

"I'm guessing that means it's at least presentable." She said with a sheepish laugh.

"What do you mean presentable?" Tatsuki inquired with a dark brow lifted. "Isn't that the point of art? To show others?"

The smile faltered around the corners as Orihime began distractedly fidgeting with her fingers in her lap.

"Not if it's really personal. You're the only one I've shown this to..." She mumbled in a tiny and bashful voice.

"Orihime..." She said, looking at her friend in amazement. "This is really beautiful."

Despite the flush of red that bloomed like roses on her friend's cheeks, an appreciative smile graced her lips.

"Thank you." She whispered, drawing her finger delicately over the grainy texture of the colored paper. "I don't think I've ever put so much effort into one piece."

"That explains why it's so well-made." Tatsuki openly admired the gorgeous orientation splashed onto this very, very lucky piece of paper. "Not bad, Princess. Looks like you really found a great muse."

The blush deepened, but Orihime's head nodded slowly.

Tatsuki thumbed through the numerous other decorated pages of Orihime's sketchbook, but none were as breathtaking as the last one among the sheets of paper. As an artist, Tatsuki always stressed the notion that a singular piece's beauty was not achieved through tireless efforts to create an aesthetically pleasing image, but by giving each detail it's own meaning. Each streak, each shape, each line, each shade, each tint, and each dimension should speak a word, until all components strung together to create a message for an individual to interpret through his or her own perspective.

Without knowing the story behind her inspiration, the message of Orihime's drawing was incomplete, broken, and nearly indecipherable to the naked eye. To Tatsuki, there was a myriad of words being spoken to her.

Freedom.

Escape.

Light.

Salvation.

The only way she could fully discover the meaning this piece is if she understood the influence of it's muse.

"This is him." Tatsuki stated as a fact more so than a question. For the sake of protecting their friends and themselves from the gossip current of this school, Orihime and Tatsuki had a strict pronoun ambiguity rule to prevent their conversations from being successfully encroached upon.

That and 'he' was an uncomfortably touchy issue at hand.

Orihime nodded numbly again, not even bothering to deny the claim in a flustered panic; such would be pointless with Tatsuki. She twirled her hair absent-mindedly, but the deep gray of her eyes was more reflective than before.

"Well, to be honest, I was thinking about all of the Esp...my _neighbors_ before I started it..." She ran a hand through her smooth hair, and gave an awkward smile. "I suppose he just happened to be on my mind more so than the others."

The childish meekness of Tatsuki's innocent friend seemed to waver back and forth with the struggle of a woman to face an imposing truth. Tatsuki silently closed the sketchbook and laid it gently against the wooden trunk of the tree, before she too leaned against the strong frame of bark behind her.

"Man." She said with her arms crossed. "I didn't think..."

"What is it?" Orihime asked innocently, trying to mask her slight worry with a bright smile.

Her words faded like sounds heard from under water. Tatsuki's mind was filled with nothing but contemplation of the muse for her friend's lovely artwork.

Running back to their first meeting, Tatsuki hadn't registered the aloof hollow as anyone or anything except the bastard that stole her best friend away from the world of the living. She could speak of him and directly to him more easily now than she ever would have been able to before, but she always felt a subtle apprehension around him. Even now, as he showed a more relaxed face than before as a teacher aid, Tatsuki could always feel the gnawing hostility within ready to unleash itself whenever he was around, no matter how controlled the environment was. She couldn't help it; she had always been so protective of her Orihime when it came to boys (or girls in Chizuru's case), but Tatsuki had never really considered any one of them a true threat.

The way those emerald eyes watched over her friend wasn't like any other lecherous male; his older, more mature gaze searched for something deeper; something that Tatsuki found to be too precious for Orihime to share with anyone.

"Tatsuki?" Orihime waved a small hand in front of her friend's glazed cocoa brown eyes. "Wh-what were you saying?"

Tatsuki let out a little sigh and sad smile. "I didn't think you had feelings this strong. You're always so airheaded, so it's easy to forget that you can be deep, too."

"O-oh. Awww, thanks." She smiled again, fighting to obscure the anxiety flooding her from where this conversation may inevitably lead to. If she was desperate enough to try such ineffective tactics with her best friend, then the matter must be too heavy for her to talk about.

Tatsuki shifted her eyes to the trees, grass and shrubs.

The verdant scenery around them brought no vision to her eyes except that of the pale, cold, dark-haired Espada himself. His presence was like that of the shadows pulsating around them. Darkness was always attracted to light. The dark always gravitated towards the magnetic glimmer of light until it's cold, invasive shadows imprinted upon the untainted luminescence.

"You know," Orihime mumbled, childishly tracing her thumb along the edge of her parted lips. "Once I started that drawing, I couldn't stop. You were right about letting all my feelings out, but now that they're drawn for everyone to see, it's way too embarrassing to even look at. I don't think I can have sensei grade this one-"

"Forget about sensei."

She turned her head, eyes wide at the abruptly ardent pitch in Tatsuki's husky voice. Tatsuki could feel her body tense, her fists clench, and her eyes burn the same way they always did when she steeled herself for a fight.

This time, she needed to prepare herself for something she couldn't hope to match with her fists. So she took a calming breath.

"This is about him. Be honest with me," She whispered gently. "How do you two really feel about each other."

"I..." Orihime blushed again, holding her hands up to shield the fragile space above her heart.

"You can tell me anything." Tatsuki assured, taking her friend's trembling hand. "I'm not a part of the thing with the the Soul Society. You've been keeping everything bottled in. This," She held up the sketchbook without having to flip open to the discriminating evidence on the last page. "Is proof of those restrained feelings."

Orihime's lips pursed delicately, while the hands on her heart clenched in an oppositely rough manner.

"Tatsuki..." She sighed tiredly. "It's really confusing."

"Because you haven't been talking with anyone about it." Tatsuki insisted. "It's not good to hold in all of these feelings to yourself."

"I know..." Orihime said without looking into Tatsuki's eyes. She held onto her knees tightly as if they were a security post, keeping her grounded and safe. "Believe me, I've been trying to figure everything out by myself for a while now. It's just so complicated."

She offered a demure smile towards her worried friend.

"I'm so self-centered." She laughed sadly to herself. "You and everyone else are here worrying about me, and I've been uselessly thinking about myself. I even wasted your time for lunch yesterday, Tatsuki."

"I already told you I was cool with that." Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "Besides, you're anything but self-centered."

A small breeze blew by to lift the coppery strands of hair to the shiny crystalline in her eyes. Tatsuki sighed dramatically.

"You're such a weird girl."

"Huh?" Orihime tilted her head cluelessly. "Weird...?"

"Yes." Tatsuki crossed her arms. "Honestly, for someone always willing to help others, you never do yourself justice."

"What? But I help myself with lots of things." She insisted, bringing her fingers up to count out a list. "Cooking, cleaning, studying, grocery shopping..."

"I'm not talking about self-sufficiency." Tatsuki corrected. "What I mean is, you're so ready to ignore your own problems for the sake of others. Like, you care about everyone but yourself. You never say what's troubling you, and you always try to keep a strong face."

At some point during Tatsuki's speech, she reached out to poke the blushing cheekbones just beneath the thick wing of black eyelashes hiding Orihime's eyes.

"You cried to me so many times after you came home." She reminded her, trying to brace herself against the bittersweet memories of her friend returning to her home in the human world.

Slightly shivering, Orihime nodded.

"Yeah..." She whispered. "You cried, too."

"Yes, and even though we said we would edit that part out of the story," Tatsuki arched a warning brow. "Just know that I can still see those tears crystal clear. Back then, I thought those feelings would be buried away with your neighbors, but now they're both back...right?"

Orihime nodded again, wiping away at the threat of tears reforming in her eyes, still freshly haunted from being exposed to the hidden vulgarity of the world around her since her stay at Las Noches.

"So..." Tatsuki continued gently. "Stop pretending like none of it is bothering you. How does it make you feel?"

Orihime took a shaky breath, returning to the safety of holding her knees tight against her chest, trying to protect the frail heart underneath it.

"It's so complicated..." She repeated weakly. "I should be scared, right? Or relieved? That's what everyone said back in the labs...relieved that they can't hurt me anymore...or happy that now they're gonna 'get what they deserve'..."

Tatsuki listened intently to her friend's shaky words.

"I wasn't happy to see them in the labs like that. In fact, that made me feel so terrible. Even now, when my neighbors look so miserable with their new move here, I feel horrible, but..."

"But what?" Tatsuki prodded gingerly.

A traitor tear escaped the watery gray.

"I feel happy that they're all alive." She said in a muffled voice. "It feels so wrong, especially since they are all unhappy, but it just makes me so relieved to know they're not cold and alone, or just completely gone. It's silly, but...I want them to feel happy here."

She wiped away the tear and tried for a small smile.

The way she always did.

"I wasn't close to everyone next door; I hadn't even properly met a few of them. But...seeing them in locked up like that wasn't right...I just wish the Soul Society wasn't being so harsh about everything. Rukia says she and others want peace, but there's so much hostility between the two groups. I really want things to work out, I really do..."

"That's getting off topic." Tatsuki informed her. "We're not talking about their problems. I wanna know what's happening with you."

"Mm-hm." Orihime nodded, seemingly having calmed herself down a bit. "I told you before, I just want their struggle to be over. That's what started the whole feel for this drawing."

"And?"

Orihime bit her lip nervously. Tatsuki scooted a bit closer to her friend, joining against only her against all other students roaming the outskirts of campus at lunchtime.

"This drawing is way too focused on one symbol, and we both know who it is." Tatsuki insisted, bringing her voice down to a barely audible whisper. "You know, 'the Arrancar that kidnapped you'? Your 'Captor'? 'Jailer'? 'Pale-faced bastard'?"

"I never called him that." Orihime said, hiding a smile behind her arm.

"Sorry, that was one Ichigo and I kept to ourselves for a while." Tatsuki shrugged. "Anyway, whenever we used to talk afterwards about the Winter War, you'd always get all quiet whenever he was mentioned. I wanted to ask you, but you were always so withdrawn about it."

"Sorry about that." Orihime smiled sheepishly. "It was a sensitive topic at the time."

"That was then." Tatsuki said softly. "Ignoring the memories won't work like last time. You can't just run away. Talk to me. I'm here."

She surprised Tatsuki by slightly straightening up, and taking a deep breath. The gray of her eyes embraced the warm brown of Tatsuki's.

"I think," She began hesitantly. "It was because I saw him so often that I started to really depend on him...he was the only one there. I spent so much time with him. Or, maybe it just felt like a long time. I felt like I was there for years instead of days..."

"Orihime..." Tatsuki whispered warily, but her friend continued on, seemingly reliving her past experience.

"He was just supposed to watch over me. Make sure I was safe and eating and all." She carried on quietly. "At first I thought he was scary, but sometimes when he would fill me in on news, I would try to talk to him longer because I was more scared of being alone. It was like talking to a machine and not a person. Like, everything he did was so robotic and unfeeling. Even when I showed him any kind of emotion, good or bad, he wouldn't react. He was unresponsive, and so different from any other person I had ever met, and it scared me, but..."

A faint wind blew her hair around like waves of sunlight under the shade of the trees.

"I wanted to reach out to him. He frightened me, made me sad, made me angry, but he was always there, so I got used to his presence. It was comforting...well, when he wasn't being so cold." She added softly. "I'll admit there were times when he really was too harsh and unsympathetic. It wasn't like he was trying to be cruel, he was just so brutally honest...he was just following orders...he didn't believe in anything but the tasks that he was given. He had no purpose but to be a warrior. He didn't know anything about feelings, bonds, or anything like that. There was nothing in him..."

Tatsuki's eyes widened at the tears spilling out from her friend's eyes. They shimmered from the light that broke through the shadows. Their shine was telescopic, like the glint of a star cut deep into the darkness of night.

"It broke my heart to see someone like that..." She panted through deep breaths. Tatsuki immediately pressed to her side and held her shaking form. "It scared me to see someone so inhuman...I wanted to leave, I wanted to be back with everyone here, and I wanted Ichigo and everyone to save me, I wanted Sora..."

Tatsuki could feel herself shiver as the warmth from her friend's body seeped away into the air, leaving nothing but the frosty grip of pain.

"I wanted to get away from him, but...I wanted to help him, too." Orihime mumbled through the tears. "When he was about to disappear, he reached out to me, as if he finally understood what I was trying to tell him. At the time, I thought it was a signal for help: one that I was too late to reach back to help him for. That guilt ate at me for so long; for not being able to do anything for him. I felt so useless. I wanted to make him feel something, even though every part of me knew that it wouldn't happen. But when I saw his eyes just before, he left...I swear, they were just like Sora's when he broke free."

Orihime's recount of the story with her late brother always made something twinge inside of Tatsuki. A few girls who walked by from other lunch places shot looks of worry at Orihime, but Tatsuki shook her head at them, signaling that the problem was personal, and so very emotional.

"I know it's not right, but even if he is having a hard time here, I'm just comforted by the fact that he's alive. Seeing him live and struggle in the human world makes it seem like he can have a second chance at life..." She sniffed, drawing a few rolling tears off of her cheeks. "He's not so cold anymore. He accepts my gestures now, and sometimes returns them, too. He's still reserved, but he's so much more open. I know that means something..." She whispered so quietly that Tatsuki nearly didn't hear.

But she heard everything. From the sound of her crying to the heart-wrenching confession of an attachment to a man that she had every right to despise, and should have hated, but had no capability to do so. No one could have possibly known the depth of Orihime's feelings for the hollow man, but now Tatsuki did. She held that shaky understanding of such intense feelings; so intense that she felt her legs cutting out from underneath her, even though she was sitting, and still holding her shaking friend. Orihime took deep breaths to calm herself before taking a weak, breathless laugh.

"Sorry, your shoulder's all wet. People keep staring at us." She said regretfully.

"Don't pay attention to them." Tatsuki held her tighter. "And don't apologize for anything."

There was heartbreakingly cheerless laugh again.

"You sound just like Ulquiorra."

"Mm..." Tatsuki nodded slowly, patting her back comfortingly. "You broke the rule."

"Sorry. Thank you, Tatsuki..." Orihime mumbled into her shoulder.

Tatsuki said nothing, but held her even tighter, trying adamantly to use the notorious strength she had to squeeze the pain and tears out of her crying best friend.

The way _she_ always did.

"Don't mention it, Princess."

* * *

"Welcome, King of Hueco Mundo."

The firm greeting held little cordiality, no matter how many times it echoed in the boundless court of the Soul Society. Likewise, Head Captain Yamamoto had no traceable expression dawned on that aged countenance, but he was foolishly unguarded.

Perhaps as a gesture of peace? Bah.

Such formality was meaningless, but Baraggan gruffly returned the gesture out of etiquette.

"To what do I owe this meeting?" The Head Soul Reaper inquired tonelessly.

"You accept visitors without any idea as to their intentions?" Baraggan grunted harshly.

There remained those ghostly, inanimate features.

"I was only informed that my presence was directly requested by the Espada King." He spoke swiftly. "I see no reason to oppose a visit from a comrade."

The word rolled off of his gruffly even voice with such sickening ease that it incensed Baraggan each time it reverberated off of the edges of the room.

"I wouldn't expect an ally to be received so coldly by the nation as a whole." Baraggan said sternly.

The aged Reaper closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing the light to capture the sunken features of his deathly appearance.

"Please forgive the Soul Reapers on account of their unkindness." He requested with what could be deemed sincerity. "I see that a good number of us still have yet to be accustomed to the presence of the Espada."

The black soul band glared menacingly under the holy light of the room, but only Baraggan witnessed the the wicked sheen. The Head Captain revealed piercing scarlet beneath pale eyelids.

"May I assume that the reason you're here is to discuss the tension between our sides?"

"That is correct." Baraggan returned. "I've spoken directly with the Captains beneath you, Commander. All justification for their reasoning leads back to you. I would like to confront the cause of prejudice towards the Espada."

"Prejudice, you say?"

"Yes." Came the harsh answer through clenched teeth. "I refuse to allow such depravity to be imposed upon myself and my comrades. I will not stand for our continued humiliation, Commander. Otherwise, you'll find that this 'alliance' will be terminated, as will thousands of your subjects at the mercy of the Menos, without the protection of the Espada."

Unwavering steel gray clashed against bloody scarlet. While heated anger coursed through the Hollow King, the Captain-Commander of the Soul Society remained unerringly unperturbed.

"I will ask you to refrain from referring to my comrades as subjects, King." He spoke eloquently. "I'm not very fond of tyranny."

"A tyrant's rite of passage includes manipulation of the gentry." Baraggan said coldly. "Just as well as enslavement of the captured."

The glimmering scarlet sharpened like a drawn blade.

"What a strong convictions." He said smoothly. "You must have so much that you wish to adress. Perhaps a cup of tea would be suited to last for a long meeting?"

"That won't be necessary."

For one so quick to anger, Head Captain Yamamoto was infuriatingly unaffected as the deep red rieatsu swarmed like fire around the Espada King. From the center of his outstretched hand, black matter materialized from the air, morphing until sculpted into the shape of the dark, double-headed axe, Arrogante. The slitted ruby pendant at the center of the round black blades glimmered like the raging crimson encircling the king. Gripping the golden hilt of his zanpakuto, the Hollow King drew Arrogante in the direction of the indomitable Head Soul Reaper.

"I've always believed that actions speak louder than words." Baraggan droned without reserve, letting the light of his ashen eyes match the inviting gleam of his barbaric weapon. "So let's have a little spar while we're at it, Commander."

The blazing blood red rieatsu was nearly unreflected in the deep sangria of the Head Captain's aged eyes. Baraggan's fiery spiritual pressure was unmatched.

Until the eldest Reaper drew his sword from the wooden sheath of a staff. Immediately, Ryujin Jakka's sea of flames mercilessly cascaded forth from the wooden sheath, nearly flooding the court of peace.

"As you wish, King."

* * *

_Tell me everything you think you know about what's going on with me."_

Just as he expected, Grimmjow's words were replaying in his mind relentlessly. Even after a whole day of errands (considerably intensified without any superhuman capability to make the tasks any easier) with restocking library books and gym equipment, grading papers, and now carrying a heavy crate of mail at his side for delivery, Ulquiorra still couldn't escape the memory of his brother's sudden change of temperament.

The more he thought back to Grimmjow's docility, the more Ulquiorra likened the situation to that of a feral animal being ruthlessly tortured into helplessness. The thought alone of any of the Espada being lowered to the status of animals didn't sit well with him. After escaping the confines of bestiality through their evolution, none of the Espada would stand for being treated as anything lower than a rational creature. The zanpakuto of the Espada was doorway to their new evolutionized condition.

Did losing Pantera make Grimmjow lose a part of himself?

Ulquiorra smoothed out the noticeable indentation that his fingers created on the classroom door's steel handle (even with the necklace on). Judging from his sharp mannerisms, such as shoving the papers through teacher's mail boxes with more force than necessary, and the way frightened looking passers-by in the halls were repelled by his presence...

...he must have seemed pretty pissed.

That thought flitted away as he felt tender little palms touch the side of his cheek. He gave a sideways look to the toddler cradled in the crook of his other arm. Likewise, the little boy stared up at Ulquiorra with childlike wonderment in his large eyes, framed by fine locks of hair nearly as dark as his own. Despite the hostile aura probably still emanating from Ulquiorra, the child only reached up to brush his eyelashes, as if making sure they were real. Slowly, Ulquiorra felt his tension subside.

Babysitting wasn't in the job description for a class aid, but that didn't stop one of the frantic history teachers from practically begging Ulquiorra to watch his infant son until he was let out from a faculty meeting. He only obliged to end the pitiful scene the man was putting on, but this was one task he certainly wasn't accustomed to. Thankfully, the child was quiet and remarkably composed for his age, albeit a bit too exploratory. Just now, his dainty fingers were reaching to touch the silver pendant against Ulquiorra's collarbone, but were blocked by larger, paler fingers.

"That's enough." He said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Small whimpers of discontent escaped the child's pouting lips. For whatever reason, the reaction prompted Ulquiorra to adjust the child lower in his arms to play with the three buttons at the collar of his tank top instead. Seemingly satisfied, the little boy busied himself with probing the gray fabric of his shirt.

Ulquiorra nearly sighed. Annoyingly dependent as kids were, he couldn't find it in him to be harsh with the child in his arms, especially when he was being so blissfully patient. Essentially, all humans were fragile to him, but infants were so helpless it was nearly scary. Still, it was odd how such an innocent creature made him feel calmer. Children radiated life; so weak and so delicately balanced on the pinnacle of life and death and of purity and corruption, that they're souls were beacons to ravenous hollows.

Though his appetite wasn't as great as other hollows, Ulquiorra was perplexed by how his survival was no longer dependant on souls.

Was it because there was no hole?

Like the boy in his arms, Ulquiorra's fingertips reached to the base of his neck. To this day, they still twitched at the sensation of something...there. Something with a calm, comforting, and confusing beat. Before the trepidation could flood his being, the child looked daringly up into eyes again, tilting his small head in curiosity. Upon eye contact, Ulquiorra was soothed. He settled the crate of mail down to floor to level the little one's eyes with his own.

Something about this child's pure and curious gaze made him slightly more aware of the soft beating in his chest. The lost look mirrored his own internal disorientation. The infancy of the new feelings he experienced was somewhat reminiscent of a newborn experiencing every aspect of life. Such a fragile little thing was sensitive to everything it was exposed to; it was always learning, always changing, and always growing. Such was the essence of life that every human had.

Oddly, this boy relaxed and perplexed him in the same way that she did. He couldn't believe he was saying this, but it was probably because of the eyes.

Of all children with variant eye colors to be handed to him in Japan, this kid had to have stunningly gray ones. Glittering crystalline blinked up at him innocently, before his tiny fingers reached out to knot in the inky black of his hair.

The sigh finally escaped him.

_You even act like her. Cluelessly innocent, no concept of personal space, too emotional, always pleading with those pretty eyes...kind of..._

_Cute? _Murciélago offered innocently.

_I wasn't thinking of that. _Ulquiorra replied defensively.

_You are now, though. _He mused, evoking the image of a smirk pulling at his pale lips. His mute hollow, rather dormant now because of the soul pendant, was laying somewhere in the cimmerian nebula of his inner world.

_Only because of your pestering. _

_Ah, my bad. _The dark creature ruffled his wings as his dark claws reached behind his head in a carefree manner. _I need something to entertain myself while being holed up in here. _

_How are you handling the restriction? _Ulquiorra asked carefully.

_It's no serious ailment to me, though I'll admit, I was worried if this handicap would put you in danger on the battlefield. Thankfully, it appears your skills are sharp as ever. _He noted, relieved and impressed.

_I can't afford to get lazy_. _Well, at least you aren't inhibited._

_Even if I were, I doubt you would mind the challenge that would come with it. _Murciélago hummed, crossing his legs insouciantly. _To quell your curiosity, you actually do enjoy a degree of conflict. Internal and external. _

_So then you're also aware of these new...qualities of mine? _

_They're not new by any means. They've simply been...kept in storage. _

_From when? _Ulquiorra asked curiously.

Murciélago let out a few growls of contemplation.

_It's far more complex than our instinctual basis from our hunting period in Hueco Mundo. I theorize that they may be a conglomeration of characteristics from other souls. As for your preference for self-inflicted sufferings...that may just be masochism. _

_I'm not having this conversation. _

Amused, guttural purring hummed from that charming, fanged smile.

_Then I'll spare you the trouble (You're more of the dominant type, anyway). Jokes aside, there are a few surprising traits that I await for you to discover on your own. It wouldn't be very exciting if I were to tell you myself, so these lips are sealed. _

Ulquiorra shrugged the matter off. Yet again, the boy's large eyes settled on the pendant, while his fingers reached out to grasp the gleaming chain. Feeling oddly obliging, Ulquiorra allowed him closer access to the necklace.

A purr of interest escaped Murciélago's pale lips.

_Perceptive child. Even with this restriction seal, he can sense our spiritual pressure._

_He must have a keener sense than other humans. _

Murciélago hummed in agreement.

_Human children tend to be more sensitive to aspects of the spiritual world. He can vaguely feel our power, but has no concept of its gravity. _

_He's only a child. _

_Indeed. But as you thought before, their delicate balance between the living and spiritual realm is what gives them such heightened perception. It's also what makes them so alluring to hollows..._

Porcelain fangs glinted out of that dark, playful smile.

_Oh, relax would you? Do you think I have no self control? _

_I refuse to be castigated on the charges of satisfying my hungry hollow. _Ulquiorra warned.

_I can't help it._ Murciélago's ebony wings ruffled in another harmless shrug. _Innocence attracts me. It's not often we find such purity in our filthy world. _

Just as the boy's astonishingly resplendent eyes peeked our from underneath his thin eyelashes, a lustrous emerald gaze was reflected in their clear diamond surface. Was it Ulquiorra's or Murciélago's or both of theirs, the child would never truly know. That sad ghost of a smile appeared on his hollow's face. His glittering green eyes were closed off by dark lashes just as rested his head against the invisible limits of his darkened inner world.

_You don't have anything to worry about. _The winged being assured, running a dark claw through the black spikes of his hair. _You're right. My appetite really has...faded away. _

Despite having no voice to express any emotion, the words of his hollow were grimly despondent. Ulquiorra could feel his pulse become sedated as Murciélago's rarely soft purrs tried to assure him that he was alright. Something about the steady beat wasn't so comforting anymore, but rather...dejecting.

He would have said something else, but a husky voice interrupted.

"What's up with the kid?"

He turned calmly to find a familiar head of long dark hair and intense dark eyes.

"You didn't strike me as the caretaker type." Tatsuki crossed her arms and leaned casually against the wall.

Ulquiorra stared her down with an undisturbed expression, but felt an unexpected twinge of trouble. She arched a dark brow to top her awaiting expression.

Ulquiorra blinked calmly, settling the toddler in his arm again. "Not until now, I suppose."

"The teachers here really are demanding of you." She said with what was probably supposed to be sympathy. "Bet it's way more than you bargained for."

The way the words carelessly rolled off of her tongue made it seem like she was trying to elicit some sort of reaction from Ulquiorra. Why couldn't humans ever be upfront about personal matters?

"If you're simply pointlessly roaming the halls, it would be wise to return to class before the period ends." He informed dispassionately, taking note of the way her small fists tightened. Interesting how she knew how to control her anger, but never hesitated to make it evident. All of that discontent seemed to be directed at him. He had been near this girl's best friend longer than she probably would have minded; yet, he had only ever directly spoken with _her_ once, and very curtly at that. From the not quite friendly expression on her face, he could tell she wasn't just stopping by for a quick chat.

"Actually," She said evenly, pushing herself off the wall to stand up straight. "I was planning to see you sometime after school, but now seems like the moment of truth. That and I'm not opposed to cutting art class."

Still unshaken, Ulquiorra only allowed his still gaze to slightly narrow in an inquisitive look.

"What business do you have with me?"

"Take a guess, Senpai." She offered in a deathly quiet voice. "Or do you prefer 'Espada'?"

The child tilted his head up to stare up at Ulquiorra's eyes, now finally glaring the way Tatsuki had intended them to. Though it appeared to annoy her, girl held her hand up peacefully.

"In case you weren't aware, I know about all of the otherworldly stuff my friends are involved in." She explained carefully and quietly, despite the halls being empty. "I know about the Winter War, too. So quit it with the dirty look; the kid will pick that up."

Ulquiorra found himself echoing Grimmjow's words.

"I don't know what business it is of yours."

...just as Tatsuki seemed to mirror Ulquiorra's earlier aggravation at them. Despite the tense set of her jaw, she closed her eyes for a short moment. When she opened them again, dusky eyes glared out from beneath thick eyelashes.

"Anything involving my best friend is of my concern." She said solemnly. "And I want to talk to you about her."

Ulquiorra tensed again. "Does she know you're here?"

"Not unless she has a tracking device on me." Tatsuki shrugged uncaringly.

_Bold for a human. _He thought, subtly sizing her up. When his gaze reached hers again, Ulquiorra bent down to retrieve the crate of mail.

"I have no interest in talking about people behind their backs." He muttered, turning on his heel. Just before he could reach the end of the hall, she sidestepped to appear in front of him. Her glare matched his for a tense moment before she sighed and held her arms out.

"Hand him to me." She said in a surprisingly soft voice.

Ulquiorra flicked his eyes to the confused toddler, before hesitantly slipping him into Tatsuki's awaiting arms. He whimpered fretfully, turning a tearful look back to his dark-haired supervisor, but was soothed as soon as Tatsuki traced her fingers gently in his own dark locks.

"You didn't strike me as the caretaker type." Ulquiorra threw her own words back at her as he set the crate on his shoulder.

"I work part-time at a dojo full of a bunch of kids hitting each other." She explained, holding the little boy with both arms. "What do you think?"

"I think you should find employment elsewhere." He replied impassively. "Perhaps somewhere that doesn't encourage violence among children."

"We teach self-defense, not how to hurt people or to pick fights." She shot back. "Nice scar, by the way."

His grip on the crate tightened.

Flipping back a wave of dark hair, she jerked her head to the rest of the hall. "Walk with me. You can deliver those on our way."

For whatever reason, Ulquiorra found himself obliging to the whims of this assertive high school girl, who expressed such blatant polarity from her soft-spoken friend.

"If your risking detention just to speak with me, then the matter better be serious." He said without looking at her. "Otherwise, I won't tolerate any of my time being wasted."

"It's no small deal, I assure you." She said nearly irately.

"Then spit it out already." He said guilelessly.

"Gladly. I've decided that I won't be satisfied until I hear an explanation directly from you." The tomboy replied. "About Orihime."

Figures.

"What about her?" He asked dully, placing a few envelopes in an awaiting mail compartment hung from a teacher's door.

"Are you going to take any kind of initiative with her?"

Ulquiorra stopped midway from dropping the final paper into the classroom mail folder to stare back at her. The light in her tawny brown eyes was less harsh than before, and seemed to glimmer hopefully, as if she was in desperate need of closure.

"What are you asking?" He threw back his own question. She sighed immediately, as if she had been expecting for her inquisition to be fruitless.

"I mean, what are your intentions with her?" She asked, awkwardly shifting the toddler in her arms. "If you're living in such close proximity to her, I want to know what kind of relationship you two have."

Relationship? That was...new.

"Well?" Her brow twitched in irritation and well-masked anxiety.

He only allowed the faintest line to crease his brow. Up until now, the only queries to his involvement with the girl surmounted to how he felt about her. Naturally, that led him to be far too engrossed in finding any enlightenment in his intricate dilemma to have considered taking any sort of approach. Once again, he found that his basis for any sort of reply was ruptured by a question he couldn't hope to find an answer for. What was there to say about their affiliation? After some consideration, he settled for the straightest answer.

"We're neighbors."

Tatsuki let out a light groan as she rolled her eyes. The little boy in her arms shifted attention back and forth between their exchange with infantine intrigue glowing in his large eyes.

"Come on." She muttered. "She says you're blunt, but I thought you would at least be serious about this."

"I don't see how stating a basic truth can be regarded as anything but serious." He replied plainly. "If you're attempting to gouge any information about our past involvement, then ask her."

"I already did, and the results weren't pleasing."

"Then perhaps you should leave it be."

"I won't."

"Why?"

"I don't take her crying lightly."

The both stopped dead in the hall. When Ulquiorra gave her a sideways glance, he found that any hostility was washed away with genuine worry for their redheaded topic of discussion. She sighed silently and rested her chin atop the child's messy black locks. Those lost gray eyes looked up to Ulquiorra, and found that the hard emerald gaze had softened significantly. Tatsuki followed his gaze to meet the same sight.

"Can we start this over?" She asked quietly, still avoiding his eyes.

"Fine."

"To be as straightforward as possible," Tatsuki began, facing him with that earnest dark gaze. "I know whatever happened in Hueco Mundo is between you two, and only you can really talk to her about it. I'm asking you to make clear just exactly what there is between you two. I don't want Orihime hurting herself trying to figure out her feelings for a guy that won't even approach her. Be honest with her."

Tired eyes drifted slowly to her, for once, prompting her to be silenced by his words.

"If I had any grasp of this 'relationship' with your friend, don't you think I would have already disclosed the matter with her?" He told her, upfront. "If I haven't given her any explanation), then it's because I have nothing to give. How do you expect me to approach her empty-handed?"

Something flashed in her dark irises before she closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"There is _something_ there. I can tell. You may not know it, but that's only because you've never spoken to her directly about this." Tatsuki explained. "Trust me. She's just as confused as you are."

His grip on the crate was dangerously tight. Nel had said the same thing not long ago, and that memory brought back all kinds of internal discord.

"I know the only thing people ever see is that smile of hers, but that's not how she feels on the inside. There's a lot of turmoil underneath that happy facade. I've seen it." She explained, insistent on letting him feel the weight of her words. "Ulquiorra, Senpai, Ul, or whatever you're called...I don't know anything about you. All I know is that you're someone important to my best friend. I care a lot about her. I've always protected her. But you've left a really big mark on her. That's territory that I can't touch. You two have to resolve it. If this...thing between you ends badly, then I don't know if I'll be able to save her."

_End badly? How? What does that mean? _

_"Don't be scared."_

_"...a cureless pain..."_

Ulquiorra blinked away the memories, and stared straight into her eyes. The sunlight streaming through the window lit up their soft autumnal glow, so much different from the allegiant hardiness they usually had. He felt his gaze soften fractionally.

"That woman is much stronger than she looks." He intoned sincerity into each word.

How could he ever dare to claim falsity in her will? Countless harsh word after harsher statement, he had done all he could to make her thoughts and beliefs bend to the will of Aizen, but she refused to break. He had said so many things that he now deemed terrible to her, each memory feeding that festering feeling of guilt that had taken residence in him, but was overstaying its welcome. Was this guilt the result of years of sins committed during his time of heartlessness? Was he now seeing everything that he was blinded to with her light?

"I know that." Tatsuki said, holding the baby closer to her chest. "You probably know it better than me, but once that strength is worn away at..."

Her eyes fell downcast, hidden under a protective hood of thick dark lashes.

"You'll see that she's also more broken than she looks."

The boy reached up to pat the dark bangs above her sad eyes, prompting her to wind her arms around him tighter, and run a hand smoothly through his dark hair.

"She tells me you've visited once." Tatsuki said softly. "Has she ever spoken to you about Sora?"

Silently, he nodded his head.

"After he passed, she was alone for a long time. She values people and life. To this day, she holds her loved ones in the highest regard." She whispered. "Her heart reaches out to everyone she cares for. If anyone is suffering, it tears her apart. Whatever is happening between you two is will seriously affect her whether it ends well or not. That's also dependent on whether she sees you as a friend, or...something else..."

_Something what? _

"If it's bad, then I'm afraid of what will happen to her. Please don't let it come to that."

Something constricted within him, and his eyes retreated to the floor. She was asking him to protect her friend from something he had no idea how to face. Her features flooded with apology and sympathy: kind gestures that never solved anything.

"I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying." He affirmed quietly. "You're not the only one who's lectured me over this matter. I don't need three people to confirm that I'm indecisive, nor do I need anyone telling me what choices to make."

At this point, frustration was seeping through the cracks of his collected demeanor, more so than he had ever allowed to throughout the years. In response, she let out a guilty sigh.

"I can see how that would get annoying." She admitted. "But I'm not lecturing you or pressuring you to make any certain decision on my whim. That's not my place."

His eyes drifted back up to her sincere gaze.

"I want what's best for Orihime, but I can't decide that for her. Only she can." Tatsuki said softly. "Same for you. Don't let other people sway your decisions. They're for you to make only. Never forget that."

Tatsuki took a step closer towards him, drawing their gazes into a deeper embrace. Hers held a tentative curiosity that outmatched the slight worry in her eyes.

"Try to answer this question if it's not too personal." She requested of him hesitantly. "Do you...think a lot about her?"

"Finally. Something that I can actually answer." He flicked a stray dark lock of hair from his eyes.

"Then out with it." She muttered, trying to conceal the anxiety in her suddenly small voice. "Well?"

He nodded temperately, feeling his tough exterior relax as the unrestrained truth flowed free.

"More than anyone else I've ever met." He said softly.

It seems that speaking of deep sentiments was enough to bring a blush to any human's face. The toddler in her arms reached up to fervently observe the faintest scarlet sketched on her pretty features. She blinked a few times before letting out a little breath.

"Kay, that's uh...pretty heavy." She whispered in a daze. "Well, I expect you to address that with her."

"You expect a lot from me." He said, his tone even despite the cumbersome weight set upon his shoulders by his own words.

"Of course I do. I'm trusting you with something that means a lot to me. Don't let me down."

It meant to come off as a demand, or even a threat, but they both heard the silent prayer behind the ultimatum.

"I've said all that I wanted to." She concluded solemnly. "Whatever happens next,"

Her dark eyes pressed down on him with more strength than gravity. She held her arms up, leveling Ulquiorra's jade eyes with those so hauntingly reminiscent of crystallized rain clouds.

"Is in your hands."

Little hands reached out to touch him, so he wordlessly took the child from her awaiting arms. Immediately, the little boy let his fingers explore the dark waves of Ulquiorra's hair. Gently, his other fragile hand reached for the base of his neck, gingerly feeling the spot where the hole had been filled with a center of life. Tatsuki watched the interaction with a softer light in her warm brown eyes.

"Enjoy him while you can, kid." She ruffled the child's messy array of black hair. "You won't see anyone else who looks like him in Japan. Or who has a steep grip like him."

Ulquiorra remembered to loosen his grip on the mail crate, one side mercilessly crushed by his inescapable grasp. Tatsuki flipped a long strand of ebony behind her shoulder, before lifting the heavy crate off of his shoulder with ease.

"Scary dent." She muttered, settling the burdensome box against her hip. "I'll take this to the office, and tell them that you finished as much as you could."

"I'm capable of doing so myself." He informed, though was really quite indifferent to the matter. "You need to get back to class."

"Not unless I'm filling out a request of a certain class aid?" She shrugged suggestively. Ulquiorra fought off the urge to roll his eyes.

"The bell's gonna ring soon anyway." She sighed as she walked past him on her way to the office. "Orihime's probably worrying, too."

"Then don't keep her waiting." He replied back.

Tatsuki pivoted back to give him a look that was, yet again, reminiscent of someone he couldn't think of at the moment.

"Same to you."

With that, she disappeared behind a wall corner, leaving Ulquiorra alone with about three minutes to mull over her words before heading off to patrol with his siblings.

A soft yawn poured out from the little boy's mouth. His head laid against the hollow of Ulquiorra's neck, breathing slowly and warmly against the cold skin of his chest, listening to the hastened tempo of his pulse like a lullaby. Their identically black locks mixed with each other as Ulquiorra held him closer to feel his own heartbeat. Iridescent silver blinked drowsily before falling under a dark blanket of delicate eyelashes.

He was fast asleep in matter of seconds.

Wordlessly, Ulquiorra took off to scour the school for the boy's father. He didn't fail to notice the bright sheen of the landscape from outside of the window, and the way it glistened after the fall of an evanescent sun shower.

_I'll never escape your light, will I?_

* * *

Rays of sunlight poured out from the diminishing layer of rain clouds, making droplets on the grass glitter like a field of sequins. The scene would have been more pleasant had the color green not reminded him of his exceedingly unpleasant encounter with his brother this morning.

Grimmjow dismissed the irksome thoughts and revved faster through the meandering pathways of the inner city. It was nearly time to start patrolling the area, but he was still in a less than content mood since this morning. The anger had subsided a while after he had stalked off, leaving enough room for an ungodly amount of pensiveness. Riding his motorcycle usually allowed him to clear out any troublesome thoughts from his head, but the indecipherable feeling evoked from his confrontation with Ulquiorra wouldn't leave him alone.

They had gotten into harsher, cruder, bloodier arguments before; yet, this one lingered like the clouds overhead. This one was different from the others, too. Never before, during any of their few moments together, had Grimmjow witnessed such an expression on his disimpassioned comrade's face before.

Concern. For him.

He felt like punching a wall, if not his green-eyed brother. He wouldn't stand for being pitied by that stone-faced bastard, or anyone else for that matter. Just the thought of those infuriating puppy eyes set him aflame; he fucking hated dogs.

Slips of electric blue whipped back with the wind as he sped further down the barren streets. As he rode down a narrow pathway to a plaza, his eye caught sight of a familiar coffee shop. Even if the steaming beverage brought his dark-haired source of anger to mind, he could use a cup to calm himself down a bit (the stuff really was kind of addicting...).

Parking under the shade of a large tree, Grimmjow mounted off his bike to approach the glass doors of the shop. All he had to do was walk through those doors, pay for a large Expresso to drown his trepidation in, and leave with a clearer mind, just in time to be able to get through his annoying city patrol; so long as nothing distracted him, all would be okay.

The first thing he encountered as he pushed through the glass double doors, was an occupied table at which a waterfall of copper spilled over small shoulders, and framed a very familiar and very pretty face. He froze as wide gray eyes peeked up from underneath long eyelashes.

"Grimmjow?"

_Fuck me._

After an painfully slow and awkward set of minutes, dialogue, and eye-exchanges, Grimmjow had wound up waiting in the chair next to hers after taking his order.

"I thought you'd be out on your patrol with Ichigo?" She inquired innocently, but the mention of that brat was enough to tick him off.

"It starts later." He answered curtly, really not in the mood to discuss the matter any further.

She seemed to pick up on his moodiness, and simply hummed serenely in response, going back to whatever she was doing in that little notebook of hers. His irritation only elevated in her presence, not on account of her, but rather the anemic man that came to mind any time he saw her. Grimmjow tapped his foot impatiently against the tiled floor, doing whatever possible to make time pick up its agonizingly slow pace.

All the while, the only sound that came from her was the rough scraping of graphite against the paper. Judging from the rapid little flicks of her wrist, she was sketching something rather than writing. Last time, he had caught her working on a piece outside of the store. Distractedly, his eyes studied the movements of her pencil and the dark paths it created on the pristine white paper. From what he could scarcely see, it was a purposeless conglomeration of markings; just an abstract design inspired by the boredom of having to wait in a busy shop for a stupid cup of coffee...

"You wanna see?" She asked, smiling amicably and tentatively pushing the paper closer to him.

He then realized that he had been unconsciously leaning forward to analyze her sketch.

"It's not finished yet, but what do you think so far?" She angled it so that it was facing him correctly.

"The hell is it?" He asked, his eyes still stuck on trying to comprehend the orientation of lines she had been working on.

"Hmmmm...I'm not sure." She chirped, poking the end of her eraser to her cheek. "I didn't have any plan to draw something specific. I guess that's just a habit of mine to doodle when I get bored."

"So you carry a sketchbook with you on the ready?" Grimmjow flicked inquisitive eyes up to her, to which she laughed lightly.

"I've actually been doing that for a week now." She replied with a sheepish smile. "My art class had an assignment to find inspiration for a new piece. It was due today, and thankfully I got a great grade on the piece I picked. I feel like it's one of my best."

"Where is it?"

By evidence of her blinking, silvery owl eyes, she was completely caught off guard by his question. While his inner intrigue in this art by humans was what enticed him to ask such a sudden, his impish side had it's part in playing with her meekness.

"H-huh?"

"Lemme see if it's as good as you say." He arched a challenging brow. "Should be fine, right?"

"O-oh..." She practically melted, glancing around helplessly for a distraction. "I-it's really not that great."

"I'll be the judge of that." He shrugged nonchalantly, feeling a grin spread on his lips out of enjoyment from teasing her.

"W-well you see..." She stammered, distractedly drumming her fingers on the spiral binding of the sketchbook. Grimmjow settled his eyes intently on the thick black cover.

"It's in there isn't it?"

_Ten seconds later._

"W-wait! Please give it back!" She protested, struggling to reach the book hanging suspended from Grimmjow's hand.

"Come get it from me." He waved it playfully above her outstretched arms, smirking mischievously at her struggle.

"But you're too tall!" She cried, helplessly clinging with one hand to his jacket to reach higher.

"Let's see..." He smirked, dangling the edge of the cover, watching each page after page fall to a new drawing.

"Ah! Wait!"

"Is there something you're trying to hide?" He asked, grinning impishly. "What kinda dirty little secrets ya got, Princess?"

Even if her panicky discomposure was entertaining, he didn't see any need for her to be so fretful about any of the pictures. Quirky as a few of them were, they were all actually quite well-drawn. Grimmjow actually found himself absorbed in each individual piece, intrigued how none of them looked like in any way, but displayed their own alluring spell. For such a ditzy girl, a few of her works looked surprisingly poignant.

Especially the last one, that actually made his eyes widen. A little squeak of shock and embarrassment escaped her gaping lips, and her hands dropped to his shoulders. Grimmjow leveled the paper with his eyes, taking in its entrancing character by each shade, shape, and line.

The centerpiece was of a trichromatic pair of wings.

"U-um..." She slipped her hands off of him to fidget with them at her chest. "That's my latest one..."

"Just wings?" He said, unable to take his eyes off of the drawing before him.

"Y-yeah." She tried for a sheepish smile. "M-maybe I was thinking of birds when I started drawing it. O-or maybe...b-bats? Sensei couldn't really tell either..."

Neither could Grimmjow. They were certainly a unique set of wings; their shape, color, and texture were unique to their own character; sleek, prismatic, and, despite being majorly opalescent, had a magnetic darkness to them. The background was amazing, too; from the bleak darkness of a cave, only dimly lit by the luminescence of emerald-like cryastal structure, the light source at the top created by the sun drew in a more resplendent sheen, creating the essence of dimension and moving through space to find light. Likewise, each column of emeralds that lines the dark cave walls beamed more and more incandescent as they got closer to the sun.

"...s-so maybe they're actually dinosaur wings?" She suggested, nervously chattering on while Grimmjow was too absorbed in the drawing to listen. "I mean, I've drawn them before, so it's possible. Right?"

"It's Ulquiorra."

His words left no room for other speculation. How could it not be? The wings were too much like Murciélago's, not in their form, but in their aura. He had only seen Ulquiorra's release form once, and those dark wings had been burned as twin silhouettes into his mind; they were as intimidating as they were beautiful. The pigmentation, sans the luminescent oranges and reds of the setting sun, was like him, too. The shades of green mirrored each color of his comrade, from his mysterious darkness to the rare and brilliant illumination from whenever he was around...

...her.

The girl in question balked, and her eyes widened before the glimmer of truth settled into their silvery expanse. Grimmjow slid his own azure gaze over to meet hers, though he felt that the knit of his brow wasn't as tight as usual.

"It is." He said astutely.

It was only then that he finally took note of the odd texture to her eyes. They were as bright as ever, but some clouded look gave them a nebulous dimension, somewhat akin to the sun demurely peeking out from ethereal wisps of clouds after rainfall. Had she...cried?

Nevertheless, that ever lovely smile was there as she nodded her head. It just dawned on him how beautiful she really was.

"Yeah." She whispered dreamily. "My friend said the same thing. I think so, too."

"What made you draw this?" He asked seriously, genuinely curious as to what could have possessed her to give so much time to this piece. She tilted her head in contemplation, her deep eyes shining brighter as the seconds ticked by. Something clouded the gray, and she shook her head temperately before giving him an apologetic smile.

"I still don't really know." She said softly. "One day, there were a lot of weird feelings bubbling up inside me, and I needed a way to pour them out. That's what art is for: to express how you feel and do it in a way that other people can feel it, too."

_Feelings?_

_For Ulquiorra...?_

"I see." Was all he could quietly concur with. Grimmjow shifted his examining gaze between the girl and her work, trying to find some connection between either visions before him. How was it that a human girl, who barely knew his thick-skinned comrade, could spill his essence out onto a thin slice of paper, and have it breathe with the life that Ulquiorra lacked in his dead eyes? For some reason, Grimmjow didn't feel angry at the thought of his dark-haired brother anymore. Not when this girl had repainted his image in such a different way. How had she done all of that with just a paper, a pencil, and a few colors?

It was remarkable.

"Not bad, Princess." He murmured, somewhat in a daze.

Bright scarlet shaded itself on her cheeks, but her smile softened. "Thank you. Oh! Now I remember!"

Half-alerted by her gasp, Grimmjow turned his head to find her pretty face lit up brighter than any lights in the city.

"I didn't get to say it the last time we saw each other here." She explained with an elated smile. "Thanks for helping me on that one drawing with the leaves. I got a perfect score for that, but it made me feel kinda bad that you didn't get any credit for your work on it."

His brows instinctively knit in annoyance, but the memory was clear in his mind. He hadn't really considered it a gesture of assistance, more so as a means quell his own odd discomfort over an imperfect picture; although, her positive reaction seemed to some kind of extra merit.

Not that he would ever let her know that.

"Please. It's still your work." He muttered, looking away from her smile. "I don't need any credit."

"You still helped me." She said gratefully. "Shading isn't my best skill, and I wouldn't have gotten that good grade without your help. So...let _me_ credit you, at least."

Her eyes were so purely honest that it was hard to look into them. So he avoided her gaze by glaring at her sketchbook.

"Do whatever the hell you want." He muttered.

"Oh, okay...ummm...you won't tell anyone about that drawing, right?" She asked, batting pleading eyes at the masterully crafted image.

"Who the fuck would I tell?" He shrugged uncaringly. "What's the big deal anyway? It's just a drawing."

She shook her head. "It's a lot more than that. Art always is. You're one of the few people to see it, and this piece is really important to me. Especially everything it was inspired by..."

_By Ulquiorra. Why the fuck can't you say that out loud? He's already got you wrapped around his finger. _

"If those feelings are so important, why not face them instead of piling them up in this book? That doesn't resolve anything." He shot at her, though without the normal bite in his voice. "These drawings can't satisfy you forever since you'll have to face your problems eventually. You can't just run away..."

His voice trailed off as he really started to listen to his own words. Their former distortion within his mind, by the works of his defensive ego, vanished by looking into her glittering eyes; they were clear enough for him to see his own reflection in, like mirrors. Even her silver doe eyes blinked, wide and taken aback by his words.

Then they flashed with a brilliant sheen of remembrance.

"Okay." She whispered softly, giving him a mind-numbingly gorgeous smile. "I'll follow your advice, but you still have to promise not to tell anyone."

Blinking slowly, he eventually caught his senses and let his features return to their familiar scowling set (which was suddenly hard to accomplish).

"Whatever, Princess." He rolled his eyes, slipping his hands in his pockets. "I'll keep your little secret. Just don't...bring this up again. Or else you're dead." He threatened her a not quite threatening manner.

"Yes sir!" She saluted with a firm voice, before bringing a finger to her smiling lips.

"A secret between artists." She said in a hushed tone.

Before he could even blink in surprise, a faint beep sounded from her purse. As she flipped the pink device open, her eyes widened at the message.

"Uh-oh. I'm a half an hour late to my friend's house and she's worried and mad." She said in a calculating voice, as if trying to concoct a plan of survival. "I better go now. See you!"

Within a few zippy seconds, she took back her sketchbook and dashed towards the entrance. Before leaving through the twin glass doors, she pivoted to shoot Grimmjow another heart-stopping smile.

"I've been in a weird mood all day today, but talking with you made me feel better. Thank you, Grimmjow. Bye-bye!"

Two dazed minutes later, Grimmjow was back on his bike, and riding out through the streets to make his way to his patrol site, which he was half an hour late to, as well. No doubt his other redheaded human acquaintance was furious beyond any quivering member of the Reaper unit's control. While the thought was pleasant, he found that he couldn't linger on it for so long. His sudden distraction was too strong to pull away from. He hadn't even bothered to pick up the coffee that was supposed to clear his mind and relax him.

Something else took care of it.

"Don't mention it, Princess." He murmured, riding off to a new path lit by the sun.

_To be continued._

* * *

**A/N: This is the first time I've ever left a chapter on somewhat of a cliffhanger O_O**

**I had actually planned for this chapter to be much longer, but the ending was proving to be too complex to write without any planning, plus I was getting impatient with myself. Hopefully this leaves you all wanting more. T****he next chapter will continue off on the events of this one, which will include Baraggan's confrontation with the Head Captain, a little action, and our long-awaited Ulquihime moment. I'll try my best to find the motivation to organize and write it all.**

**Let me know which part of the chapter you liked best. As confusing as it was to write all the angst, I still had fun with it all: conflicting emotions, symbolic children, best friends, motorcycles, etc. And I greatly appreciate all of your ideas and thoughts! (SUBLIMINAL: REVIEW...)**

**P.S. I would really appreciate any thoughts on how I'm handling Ulquiorra's character. He's getting to the point where he's realizing so much that he's never noticed before, and he's becoming more and more questioning of himself and everything around him, while still trying to remain in his comfort zone of apathy. I've never written from a heartless man's POV, so critique me. (Thoughts on Grimmjow and Tatsuki would be great, too!) Thank you for reading! **


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